The Promise
by hopelessromantic1470
Summary: Mainly Murtagh/Nasuada post inheritance, but pretty  much ties up everything CP killed and left out...Now Complete :D
1. A Promise

**Okay, hopefully this will turn out better than my last fic and I won't lose my characters' along the way (so annoying, you want to write something really dreamy but it's just NOT who they are...) Anyway, this is promising to be the complete opposite of a happy ending...(sorry tii-chan17, I just can't help myself) Reviews are always welcome... *begs on floor sobbing madly**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like CP to you? Good, don't sue me.**

"I'm sorry. And I know you might never forgive me, but I need you to know that." Murtagh's eyes were cutting windows into my very soul, imploring me to believe him.

I did. The truth was, ever since he had first healed me in Uru'Baen, I had known I could forgive him. I had known just how sorry he was. How damaged he was inside. How much he loved me. Realising that had made me realise the truth I had locked away in my heart for so long, buried away after his betrayal. I loved him too.

Gently, I reached up and brushed the hair away from his face. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I smiled.

"Murtagh, I forgave you a long time ago. All I care about now is helping you. And I know the soldiers aren't going to accept you to begin with, but after they know everything, I'm sure they'll come around. I can help you, and you can help me. Don't worry." I spoke softly, quietly, trying with all ym heart to convince him that we could make it through this. For a moment, his eyes lit up, and he gave me the first smile I'd ever seen from him, making him look altogether handsome, and I thought he would accept; but then the old shadow came and snuffed out the flame.

"I'm glad you know I'm sorry." He said, nodding to himself, but his voice was different. Closed off. Distant. I'd lost him again. Biting my lip absentmindedly, I tried to make the smile come back onto his face.

"We can work it out together, I promise." Still no response.

"I need you."

He looked up at me at that. Searched my face for any hint that it might be true. I could see the wonder cross his face as he realised that I meant it. Abruptly, he hugged me close to him, before standing back as he realised I was still injured.

"Shall I-?" He barely got the words out before I nodded.

His hands took the fabric of my tunic and gently tore it, before muttering something in the Ancient Language. Moment by moment, I felt my pain shrinking away, and relief entered me. Past Murtagh, I saw Eragon with Saphira, his hand on his sword. When he was done, Murtagh looked at me again.

"Better?" he asked; a hint of something on his face. Remorse? Sadness? Hate? I realised just how hard it must have been to see what he had done to me, and I strove to reassure him. Nodding, I smiled back at him. He nodded back, and I would have kissed him there and then to take away the lines in his face. It certainly would have shocked him, I thought, but then he looked upwards, at Thorn, rapidly descending. Saddlebags lay on his back. Then I grasped what was about to happen.

"No!" I cried, desperation filling my voice. "No! You can't go! Not now, after everything! Please, Murtagh!"

He gave me a weak smile, but turned to face Thorn.

"I love you!"

Murtagh turned around. In a moment he was at my side, his arms around me as he whispered into my ear.

"And I you." Quickly, though, he stopped my next words with a finger. "Nasuada, you know I cannot stay. I know how hard you would try, and maybe they would accept me, but never with their hearts. And anyway, Thorn and I, we need time. Time to get over what Uru'Baen did to us. Time to let our hate go."

I was dangerously close to weeping at his speech, but he looked at me again with his beautiful gray blue eyes, and truly smiled.

"I promise you, I will return."

Then, with a parting kiss on my forehead, he went to Thorn. Dropping the bags onto the ground, he mounted him and turned to me.

"I promise."

Then he was gone. And I was alone. I felt my cheeks become wet as the tears fell down my face. I sensed Eragon behind me and turned.

"Where are Thorn and Murtagh?" he asked me, a look so like his brother's on his face.

"He's gone." I said, before walking away. It took me less than a minute to reach my tent, and then I let go and cried. Cried for my father, cried for all the soldiers, cried for Murtagh, and cried for myself. Once again, I was alone.

**Okay... I hope that was alright, the next chapter will be up as soon as I finish my revision... which may be a while...**

**Thanks!**


	2. Illirea

**Thanks to:**

**NoshaPikletoes, tridentbonez313, InheritanceManiac, and NormalityisNonexistant**

**Okay, this chapter is gonna be from Murtagh's point of view, and then I'll probably alternate... Unfortunately, I have Physics/Biology/Chemistry exams next week, so probably not going to update as quickly as I'd like... *sob**

**Disclaimer: No, I am not CP. Why would I want to take responsibility for that awful ending? Ie. Inheritance and all its characters aren't mine blah blah blah**

The wind buffeted my face as we rose higher and higher, and as we ascended I found I could pretend that the tears on my cheeks were just condensation from the height. Thorn wasn't fooled.

_You knew we had to go, do not regret a decision you knew would have to take place._

_**That doesn't make it easy**_

_No, but it makes you the wiser for accepting what you cannot change_

_**Cannot change? You heard what she said-**_

_And you know as well as I that she was wrong. She was convinced that you would be accepted only because her love for you clouds her mind._

_**Do you tell me this to upset me?**_

_No little one, I tell you this to make you stronger. And maybe we shall return one day_

_**One day. I'm not getting any older Thorn, she will**_

_And you accepted that when you made your decision in the council chamber_

_**I accepted that I had changed because I fought for her! I still wish to-**_

_But you know it cannot be_

_**So you suggest I change myself again, and forget her that I love**_

_Oh little one, I didn't want you to change, only to accept_

_**What if I can't Thorn?**_

_You will always have me, and Eragon. He has forgiven you, maybe, once all the other two leggeds short leggeds and creatures of this land know of what you did, they also will forgive you!_

_**But in time for Nasuada and I to ever be together? To have a family? I have centuries, she has but a few decades!**_ Murtagh's bitterness seeped through their connection.

_Then maybe this path is the best one, to save us from future heartache. Are you so willing to open yourself to that again?_

_**I love her.**_

_Then you must find the courage to let her go. Your staying will only hurt her. Will I fly back, or to the east?_

Murtagh clenched his fists, but in his heart, he knew Thorn was right. _**East. **_Thorn turned with a huge beat of his wings, and changed direction, this time to the right. Murtagh looked back over the barren plains, and could just make out the citadel, still smoking.

_**Thorn?**_

_Yes little one?_

_**I'm glad I have you.**_

_And I you._

Then Murtagh closed their connection, not wanting Thorn to feel just how miserable he felt. He thought of those long days in Uru'Baen, the days he wished death would take him. Then she had come. And he had been the one to torture her. He could still hear her screams as the iron burned her again and again. But then, she had understood. She had sat with him. She had let herself cry in front of him. And she had known he loved her.

_Why?_

_You know why._

And even though Murtagh's heart was broken, he found the strength to smile at the disappearing image of the capital, even as he remembered his promise to her.

Illirea.

**Okay, I know this is kinda short and it's mainly dialogue, but I'm building up...**

**Reviews are always welcome... (shameless hinting)**


	3. Rich Man, Poor Man

**Okay okay, I had some time on my hands this evening so I wrote this, it's pretty choppy and needs work, and I'll probably replace it, but I just had to put off my French homework with something... Probably why the teacher hates me...**

**Disclaimer: blah blah not mine etc, etc...**

Nasuada surveyed the room. It was, without exception, the largest array of treasures she had ever seen. Judging by the gasps from her comrades, it was the largest they had seen as well. Arya stood next to her, along with Eragon, eager to see what things the fallen king had kept hidden. Nasuada ushered the company forward with a wave of her hand. Normally, she would have smiled, but at the present time, it was all she could do to refrain from breaking down in front of everyone. Even the mountains of gold piled before her could not raise even a hint of mirth. It all seemed worthless compared to what she could have had.

_Murtagh._

His name invaded her mind like an arrow, straight, and to the point. Just as quickly, she forced it out. She would not think of him. Not now. There was too much to be done. Too much to set right. So she would. But smile? She did not believe she could ever smile again. Her heart had been ripped in two, and was being held together by the smallest of threads that was now her kingdom. How she wished she could go back to that moment. Make it turn out differently. Then, just as that thought processed, so did the undeniable truth. He would never have stayed. He couldn't. Too much hurt awaited him, and he had had a lifetime enough of that. Maybe he would have, but it would have been as a slow poison, eventually turning to resentment.

Yes, it was the right thing for him to leave. Yet everyday, she would find herself thinking of him. Every night she would dream of him and what he had said.

_I promise._

He had, hadn't he? He said he would return, and that kept Nasuada sane. Just. He would return. He had to. But then the other fears. When would he return? When she was old and her hair was grey, and he still encased in his young, strong body? When she was nearing her end and he his beginning? For the onstripping of her youth would take hold soon. In a decade, she would be considered a middle aged woman. He would be young. Young forever. For the first time, she truly understood why Arya had rebuked Eragon for so long. Age seemed like a number, until it caught up with you, as it did with all.

"My lady?" a servant was asking, "My lady?"

Coming out of her reveries, she looked at him expectantly. "Yes?" she responded, impatient to leave and return to her quarters.

"Where do you want us to put this?"

The man held out a small gold chain, from which hung an assortment of diamonds and sapphires, matching the diadem he held in his right hand. Nasuada stared, before realising what it was.

"The Queen Consort's Crown?" she pressed him, and the man nodded. An idea came to her that would not have occurred had she been happier, and in answer, she knelt down on the marble floor, and bowed her head. "Crown me."

The man was shocked, as was all the other attendants in the room. Eragon and Arya stared incredulously at her, not believing what they saw.

"Me, Your Majesty? A servant? Why not my lord Eragon, or King Orrin, or-" the man stammered, his hands now trembling.

"You. If I am to rule the people, I want the people to crown me, for no man should be afraid to speak before me, or seek justice from me. For sure, I could have an array of nobles clamouring to have the honour, but none should mean as much to me as if you would be the one to place the crown upon my head. A servant crowning the Queen, that is how it should be, for only the people can know who they want their monarch to be." Nasuada paused for breath, meeting the man's eyes.

He nodded, clearly in awe of her speech, and raised the diadem high above her head. "Then in the name of the all the Free Peoples of Alagaesia, I place this crown upon your brow and pronounce you Queen Nasuada, Ruler of this Land. May your life be long and filled with much glory!"

Cheers broke out among the assembly, though Arya still looked slightly disapproving. Nasuada knew what she had done though. She had earned the People's respect, for this would soon be told from all the inns and bars, and that was worth more than the whole room. Getting up, she looked at the man.

"Tell me your name" she commanded, speaking softly but confidently.

"Al-Aldren you Majesty. Aldren Bayetsson,"

"Thank you." She said simply, before turning from the room. Where she walked, everyone bowed or curtseyed before her, from the highest noble to the smallest child. Nasuada walked with the confidence of someone who has been given her position and knew she would keep it, regal, and elegant. Finally, she got what she had wanted, and reached her chambers. There, she crossed the floor to the nearest chair, and half fell, half sat down. She felt wetness on her cheek, and knew it for her tears. There she knew the statement her father had told her so long ago was true.

"_You could be the richest man and own all the wealth in the world, and still be miserable. Yet the lowliest servant, who owns nothing but the shirt on his back, could be happy. Remember Nasuada, riches will not buy you someone to come home to, nor will they buy you a peaceful sleep. The most important wealth in this world is the kind you must earn."_

For the first time in the two months since his departure, she spoke his name.

"Murtagh"


	4. Stories

**AN: Okay, okay, I admit it, I haven't updated for an abominably long length of time. I am very sorry, but I just couldn't think of ANYTHING to write. Writers Block is a very debilitating disease. So, I've finally written this. It's probably awful (I did write it with a KILLER headache) but here you go:**

**Disclaimer: I'm not CP. So don't sue me. Thank you.**

Murtagh POV

Walking into the inn, I made sure to cover my face. Lessons learned from the last time. My last visit to an inn had resulted in four men with a serious concussion and my quiet evening ruined. I'd had to leave the next morning, before the rest of the village decided to end my stay permanently.

_I don't know why we didn't just do what we had planned and clear off to the wilderness. Do you really want another fight?_

_**Of course I don't want to fight!**_

_Liar. The only question is why._

_**What do you mean, why? I do not wish to fight, so it follows there cannot be a reason.**_

Through our link, I could sense Thorn's puzzlement turn into growing curiosity. Clenching my fists, I forced all thought of her out of my mind. I wasn't quick enough.

_Her? Again? Why do you insist on torturing yourself over someone you cannot be with?_

_**That could change.**_

_We've been through this before, it won't. Staying in the Empire, amongst a country of people who hate you, is utter folly. You know this. It's what made you leave._

_**Thorn, I get your concern-**_

_And you're going to take no notice?_

_**I promised her.**_

_We both know you cannot keep that promise!_

_**I'm getting a drink.**_

_Murtagh-_

Abruptly, I broke off our connection. Walking over to the bar, I kept my head down as I asked for a beer. The innkeeper's eyes stared at me and narrowed. I knew I looked a sight. My cloak was muddied and wet from the long flight, my hair was unkept and spilled over my forehead, and dust and grime covered my body. He lingered, mulling over whether to fulfill my request of refuse to serve such an outlandish character. Sighing, I let my hand drop to the ruby red pommel of Zar'roc, as if by accident. It worked. The innkeeper stared at the sword, his mind working furiously as to what to do.

"A drink?" I repeated, smiling at him. Muttering under his breath, he turned towards where the mugs were, a disgruntled look on his face.

_Was that really necessary?_

_**I'm not in the mood to be polite.**_

Thorn accepted my answer and carried on searching the small wood out for any deer. I leant back against the counter as I waited, surveying the room. In one corner were three obviously very intoxicated men in the midst of a drinking game, who were being egged on enthusiastically by a small crowd. In another, who must be the local bard was beginning a tale, another crowd listening raptly. In the last corner sat a woman of about 20, who was staring at a piece of paper as if her life depended on it.

"Here you are then." Came the annoyed voice of the innkeeper, interrupting me in my observations. Looking at the drink he had presented me with, I noticed that he had given me what appeared to be the most cracked glass he had.

_You did threaten him._

_**Only a little.**_

Through our connection, I could sense Thorn smirking. I realised I was smiling myself, for the first time in months. I turned to the innkeeper, "Thanks," I said. He gave a grunt in return, now almost looking guilty. I looked around for a solitary table, but there was none. The only space left unoccupied was opposite the lone woman. Grimacing to myself at the prospect of mundane chatter from her, I walked over and sat down. She looked up.

"Aren't you meant to ask first?" she said, glaring at me with ice cold blue eyes, so unlike- Quickly I cut off the thought before her name entered my mind. Doing my best at a smile, I replied with all the courtesy I could muster. "Sorry my lady, there was simply nowhere else."

"My lady? Since when did common travellers speak so eloquently?" she asked, not knowing anything. "Is that a yes I can sit down?" I answered, sidestepping the question and returning her gaze. She smiled and nodded, gesturing to the empty chair.

I sat down gratefully. The months of forest floors and Thorn's hard scales had hardly been very comfortable, and even the rough wooden chair felt nice. Sipping my drink, I studied the woman. She was definitely no older than 25, and no younger than 20. She has golden hair that was tightly bound into a braid around her head, accentuating the sharp features of her face. Her cheekbones were very prominent, probably because of her thinness. The village was on the outskirts, and in winter, I guessed that food shortages would be rampant. Still, she was pretty enough.

I realised she was looking back at me, an almost quizzical expression on her face. "Why do you keep on staring at me?" she asked, tucking the small piece of paper she held back into a pocket.

"I didn't mean to. What is your name?" I said, making up my mind to engage in some form of conversation. She looked at me for a second before answering. "Ingrid. And yours?"

_For goodness sake don't tell her!_

"Mur- Murton. I'm Murton." I hesitated, unsure why I had been about to tell her.

_What kind of pathetic name is that? Do you want to make her suspicious?_

I shut Thorn out of my mind for the third time that night, and tried to look as sincere as possible.

"Murton. Strange name for these parts. But then I guess you're not from around here are you?" she said, almost accusatory in her tone.

"..No. I'm from the west, nearer the cities."

"I thought so. Not many people around her carry swords with rubies in the hilt."

I tucked Zar'roc back under my cloak, concealing the gem from view. Ingrid noticed, I could tell, but she didn't say anything. "So why are you here?" she persisted, taking a sip from her own drink. I decided to be honest.

"Getting away from some stuff." I replied, running my fingers over the mug's handle absentmindedly, trying not to betray the anguish in my heart.

"What kind of stuff? A fued? An accident? ...A woman?"

My answer was drowned out by the sound of the bard beginning his newest tale.

"Tis only seven months into our new Queen's rule, and aren't we all sleeping mighty fine?"

A hearty roar went around the inn as the man continued.

"We have known for a certainty that she truly cares for us, but tonight I am going to share some proof of this with you. Before her coronation, our Queen was going through her palace and making changes to various things with her advisors, and by all rights should have been happy. Then, people began to notice the way she walked. It was as if a great weight was bowing down upon her shoulders, and a constant pain was hurting her, for her face was always sad. People began to talk of the reason. They said that she had fallen in love, and was in love still, but her love had been taken from her in the Great War. During her imprisonment in the King's castle, she had endured long weeks of relentless torture and pain, but she had also found hope-

My hands were hurting. My nails were cutting into my palms.

"- in the form of the traitor. Murtagh."

A murmur went around the room before the man continued.

"Yes. Murtagh. For during that long imprisonment, it is whispered that the two fell in love, but of course, it could not end well. During the Final Battle, when the King was finally smote down by the Great Rider, Murtagh turned against the King and back to the Resistance. The King was destroyed. Yet, after even this final redemption, Murtagh left. Our people were unforgiving and relentless in their hatred of him, and so the Queen was forced to relinquish him. To this day, no-one knows of his whereabouts, and the Queen still walks with a memory on her face. Yet now, because of her sacrifice, we as a people are more prosperous than we have been in over 100 years."

The bard having finished his tale, he stood up and went to the bar for another drink, leaving the crowd restless and full of opinions. I felt my eyes moisten as I remembered her face the last I had seen her. That look of loss. Looking up at last, I saw Ingrid's gaze boring into me, her question still hanging in the air.

"Mur...ton?" she asked me, and instinctively I knew what she wanted to know.

Looking straight at her, I answered truthfully.

"Murtagh."

She nodded, and we both returned to our drinks.

**Okay, so that's the end of this chapter, well done for reading it all :D Hopefully the next update will not be so long in coming... Oh, and before any of you kill me, no, Murtagh is NOT going to get together with Ingrid. This is a MurtaghxNasuada fic, not a MurtaghxOC. She might be a recurring character though...**


	5. The Red Rider

**I cannot believe myself. Not only am I writing this just before Christmas, I'm 'forgetting' my French homework to do it. That being said, I hate French... Anyway, enjoy!**

**To HappyEndingLover- yes, Thorn is feeling very protective of Murtagh after Uru'Baen, and even slightly jealous, which is why his attitude is a bit off **

**Thank you to: Nishaslayer; bamba; (Love it when you get dedicated readers); anney; aannnd tii-chan17**

**Disclaimer: Just. Really? **

Nasuada POV:

I stared into the mirror as Farica held up different earrings for me to approve. I nodded at the green ones she had shown me, they had been a gift from Arya, and seeing as I was going to be formally receiving her today, it couldn't hurt to wear them. I still couldn't get my head around it. Arya, Queen of the Elves. I had honestly expected her to leave with Eragon, a point I knew hurt her still. I knew why she hadn't and couldn't have, of course. The same reason that seemed to tear everyone apart nowadays. Duty.

My duty had become especially arduous lately. A band of Urgals from the North had betrayed their tribe and were laying waste to the Northern Villages. A week ago, they had entered Du Weldenvarden and succeeded in killing two elves, overpowering them by sheer numbers. Since then, they had grow in size, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the people lost all their new found trust in the Urgals, if they hadn't already.

I took a deep breath, then turned to face the double doors that marked the entrance to my throne room and nodded to the herald.

"Her Majesty, Queen Nasuada of the Broddring Kingdom, High Queen of Surda and Teirm," pronounced the man as the doors were simultaneously swung open.

The throne room was packed. Jormunder was smiling at me, just a few feet away, a tense smile. Since the War, he had aged visibly, age seemingly catching up with him at last. There were more lines around his eyes, his lips had thinned, his hair lost colour and receded. Yet, he was still the wise advisor my father had trusted so much, as I trusted him. I smiled back and proceeded to the small dais where my throne lay, allowing him to lead me up the steps and then stand at my right hand side as I sat down. Right on cue, the heralds at the far end, by the main entrance, announced my guest.

"Her Royal Highness, Arya, Queen of the Elves!" cried the man, swinging open the doors to reveal my comrade, and friend.

She had grown thinner. Being an elf disguised it somewhat, but I could tell. She was every inch the queen however, resplendent in green silk that complemented her eyes. Her cloak was made of silk as well, but a darker shade than her dress. Her hair was up, pinned in place, and on her brow lay a silver circlet with one diamond at the front, pronouncing her queenship. She was beautiful, as ever, and the crowd that had gathered gasped to see her.

I think it was only I that noticed the change to her eyes. They were no longer bright. They seemed dull. As if someone had sucked the life from them, leaving but a shell of what they had once been. I realised why only I had noticed. They were a perfect copy of my own eyes, and what they had become. At a small cough from Jormunder, I remembered the occasion, and rose to my feet as Arya's party stopped.

"Welcome!" I said warmly, smiling at them all, "Though I wish it were under happier circumstances, it is a pleasure to have you here in Illirea. A table has been laid in the Hall, where our advisors and ourselves may discuss the current situation,"

Arya simply bowed her head, and muttered something in quick Elvish to her companions. She looked expectantly at me, and I nodded to Jormunder, who quickly took my hand, and I led them through the back doors that led to the Hall.

The council were already seated around the long oak table, leaving two seats the head of the table for Arya and I, and three more for the Elven advisors near Arya. I motioned to the left seat for Arya, which she stood behind until I sat. I smiled at her, appreciating the gesture.

"So, the current situation is?" I asked, turning my attention to the council.

"Your Majesty, the Urgals have amassed a force of nearly one thousand, we cannot contain this from the people much longer and if they continue to grow, people are going to lose faith the new pact allowing Urgal Riders," spoke Kendar, his eyes narrowed in anger. He, like many others, had resented their addition to the Riders. I thought we had gotten past this, but it seems their feelings were merely buried.

"I think what needs to be put across is the fact that these are renegade Urgals. They have no allegiance to the ones who stay loyal to the Crown, and as such, are only responsible for their actions. The other Urgals must be seen to be helping integrate into the villages. Perhaps if we have enough trust from the people they will not lose faith in the pact," Jormunder said.

I nodded, "I agree with you Jormunder, but we still must solve the problem of the Urgals themselves. They cannot be allowed to carry on their rampage, yet, they are difficult to track."

"Have you considered someone else helping them?" a musical voice entered the discussion. Everyone turned to Arya as she continued.

"Think on it. How else would they remain undetected? How else would they manage to enter Du Weldenvarden unchecked and kill two of our own? Someone is helping them."

I could not deny the truth of her words. "You speak sense, but then, how are we to destroy them?"

"We shall pool our resources. I myself will command a battalion from Ellesmera, but I fear it shall not be enough if this elusive helper remains in the shadows." Answered Arya

"Then we must have help. I'll say it, we need a Rider, and I say there's one sitting right there!" muttered Kendar, directing his gaze upon Arya, "After all, she has a dragon! Why doesn't she kill them herself instead of hiding behind trees and battalions?"

A hush descended on the table, and the three elves became unnaturally still as they surveyed Kendar angily.

"You know not of what you speak human," said one of the elves menacingly, glaring at him.

Then Arya spoke again, in a deathly quiet voice that commanded authority.

"Rest assured Kendar, I only forgive that discourtesy as of your ignorance. How do I become a Rider when I have no elder to train me? Or do you forget that the Shadeslayer left this land? As for hiding behind my battalions, did I not just say I would command it? I would dwell upon my words before I spoke them Kendar,"

Kendar flushed, and stared down at the table, deserving of his embarrassment.

Then, the answer came to me, even as I tried to suppress it, to avoid thinking his name, but still it came. Arya looked at me with the full force of her gaze and I felt a presence against my mind. Knowing it was her, I let my barriers down.

_You know what has to be done. They will not like it, but they will accept it. _

_**I know.**_

_And Nasuada?_

_**Yes?**_

_Would you please see to it the Kendar's chambers are moved as far away from my entourage as possible? _

_**Of course.**_

Gathering my courage, I prepared for the outburst that would soon follow my announcement.

"There is one who could help us," I said, as firmly as I could. At once, everyone turned to look at me.

"Who?" asked Jormunder, and I saw the merest hint of a smile play across Arya's lips as I answered.

"The Red Rider."

**YAY! Murtagh Returns! Woah that was fun to write, I was like 'YEAH!' when I made her say that :D **

**Look, look at this wonderful button. It says to review. Won't you please press it?**


	6. Return

**Well, as a Christmas present to you all, here's an UPDATE! (*mentally claps herself on the back)**

**Oh, this chapter is dedicated to RestrainedFreedom, as an olive branch for the terrible crime of leaving him out of the thank you's last time I updated. Plus, he's been very dedicated and read this fic since the beginning XD**

Murtagh POV

It was cold now. Winter, it seemed, was finally setting in, and snow blanketed the ground, covered the trees. I kept near to Thorn to keep warm, and every so often he would use fire to warm rocks I could hold to keep my hands from getting frostbite. I had agreed not to go near any villages, but as our rations grew ever increasingly sparse, my resolve wavered and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have to go to one. Thorn was even more reluctant than I, but he too knew we would have to if we were to survive.

_If the snow doesn't stop soon we won't know where to fly to. We should leave now._

_**I thought you wanted to ride it out?**_

_That was before you started to shiver constantly. It's irritating. _Thorn paused. _And worrying._

_**It's not from cold. I'm merely hungry. It seems even the rats have disappeared. I haven't seen a single one since the village by that little wood.**_

_It isn't far to go there, mayhap we should make way-_

_**No. She's there.**_

_Who?_

_**The woman. Ingrid. She knows who I am, we can't risk it.**_

_I hardly think she'd unmask you. She seemed as a kindred spirit. A pretty one too.._

_**So what? She is nothing compared to- **_I cut off the thought. I'd become very adept at it, having enough practise.

_Nasuada. _Thorn finished, and through our connection I could feel him being almost...annoyed.

_**Well done for reminding me.**_

_You reminded yourself. And I admit, I thought this exile would be a good thing for us, but after a year, I'm no more healed than after killing the king. I wondered about this, and I realised why. It is not Uru'Baen that chains us to misery, it is ourselves. We have to let go, and that will not happen when you act as a frightened rabbit when her name comes into your mind. We have to accept what we cannot change._

_**Impressive speech. Yet I thought we already did when we left?**_

_Yes, but times have changed. I have changed._

_**And I haven't? **_I demanded.

_Yes, you too. You are merely refusing to believe it and are hiding it behind your wall of pain and resentment. Eragon was right, you need to work on not being so angry._

_**Stop comparing me to Eragon! **_I got up abruptly, pacing back and forth and trying not to let the anger invade my head. Breathing deeply, I turned back to Thorn.

_**Would you have me return to the citadel for her and then have my head skewered by the first man I saw?**_

_She would not let that happen._

_**Maybe not her, but the dwarves certainly. I killed their king!**_

_That was not your fault. You had to save her. And Eragon. Hrothgar was a necessary, if painful, loss._

_**You think they'll believe that rationalisation?**_

_Show them your memories. They cannot deny them if they are in the Ancient Language. The elf Eragon likes so much would help, if only for the fact you helped her in Gil'ead and the affection she has for Eragon._

_**This isn't something to discuss now. You're right about one thing, and that's the fact we need food from a village, so let's make way for one before we get lost out here.**_

Thorn sighed._ Come then little one._

I gathered up Zar'roc and the lone saddlebag Thorn carried and carefully made my way along Thorn's foreleg. He had grown in the year of exile. I knew he would rival Saphira in size now. If there was one thing I was proud of, it was Thorn.

_And I you Murtagh._

I smiled. At least over everything, I always had Thorn. The thought flashed through my mind, and I felt myself laugh as we soared into the air.

_There's nothing like it is there?_

_**No. **_I agreed, feeling the wind whip my hair back across my face. _**I feel free.**_

Three days later

I entered the small tavern cautiously. I had altered my appearance before Thorn had landed. We were relatively near Du Weldenvarden, and I didn't want to risk it. I made my war over to the bar and tossed a coin to the owner.

"I'll need a loaf and some meat." I said, "And some mead," I added as an afterthought.

_For me or you?_

_**Me.**_

_I suppose it wouldn't be wise._

_**No.**_

The owner, a rather portly man, looked me up and down once, apparently decided the coin was genuine, and went through the back door to meet my request. I looked about as I waited, noticing a group of three by the window. Two women and a man. Exceptionally pretty too. Suddenly, one of the women met my gaze directly with dark green eyes and made her way straight towards me.

_Murtagh! There's another dragon here!_

_**What! Get out of there! You cannot risk being discovered!**_

A pause followed, and I waited anxiously even as the women drew nearer.

_No. It is alright._

_**Thorn! Get away! What are you doing?**_

_You and Eragon are not alone any more. I shall wait._

I felt our connection sever even as I registered on the women's raven black hair shift to reveal a long, pointed ear. I didn't hesitate and drew my sword in an instant.

_Are you mad! Put it away! She's here to help you!_

_**Thorn?**_

_Do as I say!_

Battling the caution in my mind, and realising the entire tavern now stared at me, along with the woman. Where had I seen her before? I slowly put my sword away. The elf crossed the remaining feet towards me, and leant up to whisper in my ear.

"Outside Murtagh. I mean you no harm, on my word and that of the Queen's." She spoke in the Ancient Language, and I registered the silver circlet on her brow, as I recognised her.

"Arya!" I stared at her. She was a lot thinner than when I had last seen her in Uru'Baen, and dark circles lay under her eyes. Her eyes seemed to have grown bigger, but she was as beautiful as ever. I saw exactly why Eragon loved her when I looked at her. She was unique. Like...Nasuada.

I let her take my arm and lead me out the door and onto the path leading to the lake. I didn't say a word until we reached the water's edge, and then I nearly dropped to my knees.

Before me was a dragon. The last egg had hatched. He was a dark shade of green, they shined in the moonlight like emeralds, and were almost the exact colour as Arya's eyes. I turned to her.

"You?" I asked, for confirmation. Thorn's happiness came across our link as he communicated with the dragon.

"Me." Replied Arya. "He wishes to speak to you, but I must go first. There is trouble brewing in the North, and you are needed. You are the only Dragon Rider that can help. Nasuada had a hard time of it, but they have all agreed, and you will meet with no resistance when you return to Illirea."

I laughed. It was absurd. "Right. They want the traitor back to help them. Aren't you good enough?"

Arya's eyes narrowed. "I have had no training, seeing as Eragon has left and you disappeared into the East. We have been searching for you for a month, it was pure chance you came here when my party did."

"So Murtagh has to save the day? Tempting I admit. Not so tempting is the dwarven axe ready to kill me."

"You will have the highest protection." Said Arya, but I knew what she must know.

"Orik is a king. He will demand my blood or there will be war. His friendship with Nasuada is not enough to deny him avenging his foster father." I answered bitterly. "And I'm sure the people will just love to have me around won't they? After torching their homes and killing their husbands? No Arya, I'm better off alone."

"Will you stop this self pity? We have all made sacrifices in this war! Orik will not go against me or Nasuada, seeing as we control most of Alagaesia, nor is he foolish enough to cause another war so soon after Galbatorix's death." She returned, her eyes now flashing dangerously.

"Go against you? Forgive me Arya, but you are merely the old, now dead queen's daughter, and ambassador," I said, trying very hard to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Something flashed across Arya's face. Pain? It was. Damn.

"I am the queen of my people now. And you will never speak of my mother in that way again if you wish to remain breathing." She spoke softly, but I knew she was deceptively strong, and would more than likely put up an excellent fight against me.

"Fine. Say I go back. How will you persuade Orik not to slit my throat the minute he sees me?" I asked.

"I will do as Thron suggested. I will show him your memories and you will say your account of the events in the Ancient Language, so you cannot lie. He will have to accept it. As we forgave your killing or Oromis and Glaedr. It may have been your body, but certainly not your mind."

I ran through what she had said.

_Thorn?_

_**She speaks sense. And I do not wish to remain in the wilderness forever.**_

I looked at Arya. "Very well. We shall return."

She smiled at me. She was breathtaking when she smiled, it changed her entire face completely.

"Arya, what happened with you and-" I began, but stopped at her change of expression.

"Never mind. By the way, what is your dragon's name?"

Arya looked up and smile again, but it was not her that spoke. Another voice entered my mind and spoke the word.

_Firnen._

**Okay, that's it! (for now...) Merry Christmas XD**

**Yep, it's a review button... Won't you press it?**


	7. By the Firelight

**Yep. It's 2 am and I'm still writing. The things I do for fanfiction. Thing is, I was doing nothing and this idea came into my head for a conversation between two characters, and I know it's normally alternating between Nasuada and Murtagh's point of view, but I can't just put in a filler cause' it'll ruin the timing, so I guess it's going to be two Murtagh chapters in a row...**

**As always, thank you to the readers who are all just totally awesome! **

Murtagh POV

We'd made camp for the night on the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden and the fringes of the Hadarac Desert. I still remembered the last time I'd come here. When I'd killed Torkenbrand. I could still hear his pleas. Him begging for his life. I could feel the weight of my sword in my hand as I brought it down upon him.

"Murtagh?" a musical voice entered my consciousness. I turned to see Arya standing behind me, looking slightly concerned. I then realised my hands were gripping Zar'roc and driving it into the dust. It seemed like an enormous effort to let go, and then it clattered onto the dusty ground. The other elves were sleeping, or at least seemed to be. Arya still stood there.

"I'm fine. Go join your friends," I said, trying to erase the memories from my mind.

_That was a bit harsh, _Thorn said sleepily.

Instead of leaving, Arya came towards me and sat down.

"They are sleeping. You are troubled, and therefore more important," she answered, looking at me with an expectant expression on her angular face. I laughed.

"More important? Since when did you care?" I returned, watching her. Her fingers were drawing little patterns in the dust, as if by accident.

"A lot of people care about you Murtagh. More than you think. As for myself, I only wish to talk to someone who can speak a sentence without some flattery involved." Her voice was bitter as she spoke the words. "As Nasuada and I have both found, royalty takes away many things."

"Including those we love," I said. My answer must have surprised her, for she stopped her patterns and looked at me again.

"Yes. Here I was thinking I was speaking to a wall. Most especially those I love. We are more alike than you think Murtagh. You have lost her, and I your brother." Her eyes seemed to lose colour as she spoke, and she visibly shrank a little.

"You and Eragon? I thought he was too young for you?" I would have laughed if not for the pain on her face.

"Yes. I thought that once. Yet, like many, he grew up. And in a century or two, I begin to doubt if his age would truly matter. His mind is older than his years. As is yours."

"Family trait." I interjected, and she smiled briefly.

"Yes." She seemed to remember something and she turned to me again. "I always meant to thank you, but I never got a chance at Farthen Dur, then after you were-"

"Captured, tortured and enslaved. Do go on,"

"Weren't you ever taught not to interrupt?" she asked, annoyed.

I grew sobre. "No. I was taught to avoid my father by my mother and avoid the king by my father."

"I was taught that I would be Queen and never even got a hug from my mother until I was nineteen. The next year I was disowned for becoming an ambassador. Everyone has a story Murtagh."

Her reply surprised me.

"Your mother?" I asked,

"Was as distant to me the day she died as when I was born. We were never close."

"I'm sorry."

"It does not matter now. And I have been trying to say something before you started your latest bitter statement."

I looked down at the floor, something she evidently took as a signal to press on.

"I wanted to thank you for saving me at Gil'ead. Eragon would not have done it by himself and I'm grateful you helped him. Him and I both." Her gaze pierced mine, like she could see my every thought.

"Well. Not that used to thank yous but well, thanks. I'm glad Eragon did get so obsessed over helping you escape. I don't doubt you are strong but Galbatorix is very persuasive. I should know."

"Stop doing that. You turn everything to yourself and your misery and it's beginning to annoy me," she said, now glaring at me.

_She's right_

_**I can't help it.**_

_No. You choose not to. We have to get you more cheerful by the time we get to Illirea. Your constant depression is weighing me down when I want us to be free as we now are. The time for shackles is over. We can soar yet you burden yourself with trouble. You should talk more with the elf. She seems to get you speaking anyway._

"Arya?" I began. I wasn't sure how she would take this but I wanted to ask all the same.

"Yes?" her look was measured, as if she could hear the hesitation in my voice.

"When you're alone..Do you see them?"

"See who?"

"The faces. Of the people you've killed."

Arya sighed. "Eragon asked me the same thing once. The answer is yes, and I will tell you what I told him- the only antidote for the corrosive poison of violence is finding peace within yourself."

_You should speak to her more often. She's full of truth._

_**For once, you're right. **_

"I do not know how." I replied truthfully, for I didn't. It was all very well everyone telling me to let go and move on, but I simply didn't know how. "When I close my eyes I see all the soldiers. I see Galbatorix torturing Thorn. Torturing me. I see my father throwing his sword at me. I see her."

"I see Eragon every minute. Sometimes in the trees, or in a poem. I still hear Durza's voice. Like an echo in my mind. We may never forget Murtagh, but one thing we can do is forgive. Acceptance. We must do what we can with the time we have, not squander it."

Arya stood, our conversation over, and she returned to where Firnen was, surveying us with his green eyes so like hers.

I had to say it. "How is she?"

Arya paused, then turned around to face me again.

"_Though her mind be sound and strong,_

_Her heart cracks faintly, all alone"_

**Okay... I'm kinda worried if I've ruined it with those two lines at the end, but I'm tired and am never that good at poetry anyway... 2.52am...Fanfiction really does take over your life...**

**Yep, you all know the drill by now, that lovely thing just there is a REVIEW button! (hint...hint...)**


	8. Dancing Changes Everything

**Okay, I'm back from my holiday at last after all day stuck in a car... And school tomorrow...To ease my depression I'm writing my fanfic :D First off, Happy New Year to everyone! Goodwill to all men and all that... Now... here's the thing we've all been waiting for...(okay, maybe just me..) **

**(A huge orchestra drumroll takes place, followed by a huge clash of cymbals)**

**50 REVIEW BENCHMARK! WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**The elation I felt when I opened up my internet and saw that blessed number appear..The happiness...Pure joy...THANKS A MILLION!**

**So, in honour of the occasion, this chapter is dedicated to the 50****th**** reviewer, Fairyprincess4life! :D Massive hug to you!**

**The ghost who walks****: Yep, I've written more, so you'd better review more!**

**To all other reviewers, THANK YOU :D**

Nasuada POV

"I asked for the red!" I snapped at Farica, casting aside the pale lilac gown she had presented me with.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, I thought you-"

"Well you thought wrong didn't you?" I stopped my tirade abruptly as I registered the look on Farica's small face. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to be calm.

"Never mind Farica. I apologize my anger got the better of me, the lilac is lovely,"

Farica nodded at my apology, and retrieved the dress ready for me to put it on, holding it out for me in readiness. I stepped into it, still looking at the mirror. I was no longer as emaciated as when Murtagh had seen me last. My hair was thicker, though it was pinned up in a mass of curls under my crown, a tendril had escaped to frame my face, but I merely left it. The lilac was nice in retrospect. It set off my skin beautifully, it made me look regal in an approachable way, something Orrin had never mastered. Farica finished lacing up the back and bowed herself out respectfully to take her place in the packed throne room. Everyone was there to see him return. Elves, dwarves (most of them with an axe in easy reach). If not for Arya's support, I was sure Orik would have demanded the Red Rider's blood, whatever friendship he had with me. Arya was powerful now, and the elves were stronger. Only a fool would go against her, and Orik was no fool. Nor did he wish for the bloodbath that would ensue. Roran was also in attendance, with Katrina, as the Earl and Countess of Palancar Valley. His face was drawn, this would only be the second time he had met his cousin face to face, and not in battle. I knew he was nervous. Aside from Eragon and his family, Murtagh was the only kin he had.

I took one last look in the mirror, before leaving my chamber and into the outer gallery. I went down the small flight of steps before I reached the doors that led to the Great Hall. Drawing myself to my full height, I nodded at the attendants, and entered as the oaken doors swung open. I made my way along the long red carpet that led to my throne, acknowledging the courtiers who bowed as I passed. Finally, I stood by the dais, just in front of my chair, and prepared myself as the sound of trumpets announced his arrival.

Two elves came before him, both clad in full armour, and two more came after him. He would have looked under guard if not for Arya at his side, proclaiming his freedom. Together they walked, until they reached the dais. The elves neatly folded into the side, and Arya stood a little back as I walked over to greet him.

Could he see the pain in my heart? Could he hear how fast it was beating? His look was completely guarded, cold even. Emotionless. His eyes were devoid of any affection or warmth. He was a shell to me. I masked my own emotions and held out my hand for him to kiss. For a split second, it looked like he would humiliate me and not take it, but after an agonising moment, he bent and pressed his lips to my skin. Within a heartbeat, the touch was gone, and he straightened up. I couldn't understand why he was being so cold. Still, I kept my courtier's smile on my face and led him into the antechamber with the long table. Roran, Arya, Jormunder, Kendar, Orik, Orrin and a few others followed. Kendar's expression was that of an animal in pain, and my smile became genuine as I took my place at the head of the table.

Murtagh looked unsure as the others took their places, and I saw Arya's hand point, in a gesture so quick I would have missed it had I blinked, to the chair next to hers, on my left. Jormunder took the seat on my right, Kendar next to him, causing him to grimace. Orrin took the chair at the head of the opposite end of the table, and Orik took the seat to the right of Kendar. Roran sat next to him, and two elves filled the last spaces. Alraen was the name of one, I thought, before Orik began his obviously rehearsed litany.

"Well. The traitor is here. Isn't that what he is? A traitor? How are we to be sure he won't slit our throats and join the Urgals and their supposed leader when he gets the chance? He is too dangerous to be entrusted with this. Why not call on Eragon? He, for sure, is one we could trust."

Murtagh scowled, and Kendar opened his mouth to speak his speech, a gleeful look upon his face.

"Well, I-" he began.

"Are going to curse Murtagh's name as well. How about I save you the trouble?" Arya's voice cut into Kendar's. The smug look slid from his features, but before he could respond, Arya continued.

"Has everyone at this table forgotten what the Red Rider did for us in the Great War? He kept your Queen, Nasuada, alive when the tyrant would have slain her. He spared Eragon's life when he had not the means to defeat him. Most importantly of all, he was the instrument that gave Eragon the power to defeat the mad king once and for all. I say this cancels out what wrongs he did us. Was Murtagh not tortured at Galbatorix's hand? Was his dragon, Thorn, not tortured also? What of the simple fact that they were enslaved. Enslaved. They could do naught but obey the king, they had no free will of themselves. And now, after the way we treated them, they return to help us. Is this how we repay them? No, I say we are grateful for them."

I suppressed my smirk at Kendar's expression. There would be no favours for him from the elf queen, that was certain.

"I agree with Arya. If anything, shouldn't this very mission be enough to redeem Murtagh and Thorn to us all? We must give them their chancer." My voice reigned over the silence, and Jormunder nodded in agreement.

"I am also in agreement." Roran's voice added to the mix, his short statement hiding his deeper feelings. Murtagh looked at him for the acknowledgment, and Roran offered him a hint of a smile. Perhaps they would become friends, given time. Roran was clearly offering the chance for that to happen. Orrin said nothing, but Orik's face was growing very red, and I knew his outburst would come soon.

"Orik, speak," I said to him. I knew what he would say, and how damaging it could be, but I needed to hear Murtagh's answer if I myself could trust him completely.

"Very well, I shall. This-" Orik pointed a shaking finger at Murtagh, spitting out the words, "man, this _Rider, _killed my foster father. He _killed _our King. Tell me, _Murtagh, _why? Why?"

Murtagh's face had drained of colour, but his voice was steady as he answered, his head high.

"I did what I had to do."

Before Orik could utter another outburst, he continued.

"Galbatorix had ordered me to try and capture Eragon. He had also commanded me to try to kill Nasuada and Orrin. To disobey him would mean certain torture and then death. To kill Hrothgar, would appease him slightly. Hrothgar was a necessary loss to save the lives of the others. And tell me, King, if you were in my position, who would you have saved? The Rider who everyone depended on? To whom my own fate depended on? Or your king? My actions were terrible, yes, but they were the lesser of two evils. Without Eragon, none of us would be sat here today. Am I sorry for what I did? Yes. Do I regret it? No."

Murtagh, who had stood up, resumed sitting, breathing heavily. Orik glared at him, and Murtagh returned his gaze, neither of them backing down. Finally, Orik sat.

"The dwarves, and myself, will tolerate him. Do not ask for more."

I nodded in acceptance, aware now that Murtagh had not only saved my life once, he had saved it twice. And now, after he had finally been forgiven, I would be sending him into more danger.

"Murtagh, you have been told of the situation by Arya?" I spoke, looking at him, trying to convey what I felt in just my eyes.

Murtagh nodded, his own still blazing from the near confrontation. I realised just how much of Murtagh was about surviving, about running away. That would help him.

"Then we must be quick about quelling this problem. The Urgals must be destroyed, and the person or persons behind this must go with them. We cannot force you to do this, but you are the only Rider with the experience necessary to go. If you choose to accept, you must leave in a day without fail."

"I accept." Murtagh said simply, and I nodded to him.

"Good, then-"

"I will go with him."

I turned to look at Arya in surprise. She continued. "I need training, and what better way that to learn from experience. Also, I suspect that many of us-

Arya glared at Kendar

"-will still not trust Murtagh. My going with him will allay those fears. It is the perfect solution."

The table muttered their assent to Arya's plan, apart from Kendar, who looked as though he'd bitten a lemon. I saw how masterfully Arya had gained everyone's trust towards Murtagh, and I smiled at her.

"Well, I suppose that our meeting is at an end. Let us rejoin the congregation and begin the evening festivities"

I stood up, as did all the others, and made to return to the Great Hall. Murtagh followed us.

The band were playing a tune, a quick, fast paced beat, interspaced with a drum and a flute. People began to pair of, then I felt a hand tap my shoulder. Expecting Orrin, I arranged my face into that of a pleasant expression as I turned to face- Murtagh. Murtagh, holding out his hand in a clear gesture.

"My lady?" He asked, his eyes finally filled with something.

I smiled, and took his hand, allowing him to lead me into the dance floor. The company formed the two lines, and the dance began. The music was fast, mocking almost, and soon I found that Murtagh was an adept dancer, no doubt coached at the court from an early age. Not for the first time, I was struck by how handsome he was. With fine chiselled features, dark hair, and grey eyes, he was really very good looking. His mouth was turned in what could be a smirk as he twirled me about, our bodies meeting and then disengaging in the dance.

"You look well." He said, still smirking.

"I've been thoroughly spoilt here" I replied, returning his smile.

He let me duck under his arm and rejoin the company for the chorus before replying.

"I'm sure. Being Queen suits you. Though that crown does look a little large to fit on your head, almost like one of your tribe's headdresses."

The music was even faster now, and I let him lift me into the air as it reached a crescendo.

"Do you tease me because it amuses you?" I asked as he let me back down for the song's ending.

"Why else?" he smirked, and we joined hands once more.

Struck by my own boldness, I answered in a whisper.

"Because you love me."

He stared at me in shock as the song finished. I was shocked by myself, but I realised what he had. It was true.

Still smiling, I turned to make my way back to the throne, Murtagh also turning away. As we passed each other, he spoke again.

"Meet me in the garden just before dawn."

Then I was seated, and he was back in the crowd of dancers. Jormunder walked over.

"Happy, my lady?" he asked.

I smiled back. "Yes, Jormunder. I am very happy."

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaand that's the end of the chapter. I hope Murtagh's personality change wasn't too abrupt, but now he doesn't have dwarven axes hanging over him, I guess he feels a little free er. And more ready to reconnect with Nasuada. I also hope you liked Arya vs Kendar. It's getting really fun having Arya shut him down all the time... Silly pompous idiot that he is... Well, that's that for now...**


	9. Flying Away Again

**I've had a seriously depressing week. My science teacher's car was broken into, and what got stolen? A briefcase with our class's mock test papers. (haha sucks for the thief) Unfortunately, that meant we had to do the test again, which meant I had to do more revision. Then the guy I liked started hanging out with a bunch of losers and barely speaks to me now. Then I had to go to my grandfather's funeral. Which made me sink into a do nothing all day except stare at the wall and think sort of trance state. As such, my writing got severely delayed, and for that, I sincerely apologise. **

**As always, thanks to every reviewer, whether dedicated or totally new, I love you all :D**

Murtagh POV

'Because you love me'.

Such a simple sentence. Such complicated outcomes. I did love her, of course I did. What she seemed to be forgetting was the whole queen thing. Plus the fact that secretly half the court would want to stick a knife in my back. And what do I do? I dance with her in front of the whole court. I kick a stone a good twenty metres down the small incline that led to the garden, where, in another result of my stupidity, Nasuada would be waiting for me. And I'd be leaving on my mission in less than an hour with Arya. Why I did this I still couldn't figure out. Maybe it was the shock from her statement. Maybe it was the elation over Orik not killing me on sight. Whatever it was, I knew this was going to be a painful mistake.

She was sitting on the stone bench by a rose bush. Her chestnut hair fell just past her shoulders in a wavy cloud, her cream dress beautifully accentuating her dark skin. I heard myself draw in a sharp breath at the sight of her, because she truly was utterly beautiful, bathed in the early dawn light. She was contemplating the flowers that surrounded her, and hadn't noticed me yet.

I forced myself to remember my plan of letting her down gently. It would be cruel of me to give her hope for us when in all likelihood I'd be gone away on this mission, may even die on the mission, and then probably go and join Eragon, wherever he was. But she was so beautiful. Just then, she noticed me.

"Murtagh," she said, inclining her head by way of greeting, and patting the space next to her. I tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace as I sat down beside her.

"I'm going to have to-" I began, but she cut across me.

"End this, whatever it is?" she said, raising her eyebrows at me. "I knew from the look on your face when I saw you just now. And I think you are completely, utterly wrong. A few advisors aren't going to sway me Murtagh, don't you know that?"

"It's nearly the whole court Nasuada. Do you seriously think they'd let you keep the throne after this? Do you think Orrin and Orik and the others would stand by you once they realise you're in love with me? Orrin tolerates me because you do. Orik would have me killed as soon as your protection is either gone or void. It's not safe for you!" My little speech ended with me shouting. I tried to think calmly as my nails cut half moons into my palms because my fists were clenched so hard.

"You think that is what I care about? The throne! Murtagh I would give it up! I would lose everything for you! We have Eragon! We have Arya! Orik will not go against them!" Nasuada rose to her feet, her voice breaking slightly.

"I would not do that to you. I would not live with myself if you lost all you had." I said quietly. "And I am not so wonderful as you think. I have killed people. I have tortured people. I have set houses on fire and listened to the children inside screaming yet done nothing to help them. I am my father's son. You deserve more than me."

The colour drained from Nasuada's face as she answered. "Murtagh, Galbatorix was controlling you. You did not want to do those things-"

"Don't you realise what I am telling you? It doesn't matter! Stronger people than I have died rather than do his bidding! I was a coward! A weak, pain driven coward! I am a monster, Nasuada. A monster. And now I am returned I am doomed to have no one, nothing, don't you see? Eragon is gone. You are the queen. And I am alone in the world save for Thorn."

"You've got me." She whispers, kneeling in front of me and looking into my eyes as if she can read my very soul. "I swear to you, no matter where you go, no matter what duties I shall have, you have me. I love you. For better or worse, I am yours."

"Then you are a fool" I whisper back, but still I kiss her as her arms wrap themselves about my neck.

A small cough draws us apart instantly, and I turn around to see who the intruder is.

"Arya," Nasuada almost sighs with relief as she sees my new travelling companion waiting with Firnen and Thorn.

"It is time to depart." Arya says, looking at me intently with her emerald eyes. "As to what I have just witnessed, I will say nothing."

I nod, wanting more than anything to stay with the thin woman standing next to me, but I make to walk over to where our little entourage is. As I pass there, though, I brush against some flowers. Inspiration strikes, and I deftly break the stem of an small flower with light yellow petals, and as I return to Nasuada, I weave it into her hair. Then I simply hold her, her head resting on my chest as I am so much taller than her. A mental nudge from Thorn makes me kiss her on her forehead, before turning away and mounting him without looking back. In a matter of seconds, we are in the air, the wind blowing my hair back from my face and letting the morning chill into my bones. For the second time, I have left her.

Nasuada POV;

He's holding me gently, and I'm willing this moment to last, but as I know it has to, he breaks away, and with a parting kiss on my brow, the man I love flies away to war.

"Be safe."

**I just had to add in her point of view at the end...Now, the next chapter is either gonna be from Murtagh's or Arya's POV, because we need some action and Nasuada's basically gonna be running her country and getting updates.**

**...can it be?...Could it possibly be...a REVIEW button? OMG! MUST PRESS IT... (hint hint hint)**


	10. Whispers

** I'm back :D I just had a sudden idea for the story, so now I'm writing it, as usual when I'm supposed to be asleep...I never seem to be tired in the morning though, so it doesn't really matter...I can always catch up on some shut eye in French ;)**

**Anyway, we're on to Arya's POV, and we're about a day into their little trip, night is upon them...**

Arya POV

I tried to lie still on the harsh rocks and dry earth under me. Experience had taught me that moving around simply made it more uncomfortable, and in any case, we had to stay as quiet as possible if we were to stand any chance of not being caught. We had travelled to about two or three leagues from Carvahall, and had chanced across a small Urgal encampment, no doubt scouts, but they might hold information we could use. Still, it troubled us that they were daring to keep so close to the Valley, a group of their size could easily be crushed with little effort, and it only fed the suspicion that these renegade's had a protector.

Murtagh shifted beside me as the Urgals drew closer to our hiding spot. Inwardly, I groaned, as one of the Urgals looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. However, outwardly I could do nothing except hold my breath and hope he wouldn't follow his instincts. Without the element of surprise, the fight would be relatively equal, until of course our dragons joined in. However, we couldn't afford that kind of exposure, we had to stay low. So I forced myself to take the smallest breaths I possibly could, and kept utterly still, even though a particularly sharp rock was pressing against my calf. Beside me, Murtagh too was like a statue, but his eyes were searching around, looking for escape routes, places that would give us the high ground if we were to fall into a fight. Unfortunately, we were in a rocky area, and stone hills encircled us, making it difficult for our dragons to land here. Too late, we both realised if we were trapped into fighting here, we would have no help.

Luckily for us, the Urgal looked away with almost a shrug, and his two comrades, along with him, proceeded to set a fire going, cooking chunks of deer meat on a spit over it. The largest one took out a small container with what looked like salt inside it, and seasoned the meat before handing it around to the others first. I heard Murtagh make a small noise, and looking at him, I found him smirking.

"It seems even the Urgals need some etiquette," he whispered, and I managed to stop myself from smiling as I looked back at our quarry. They were talking now, in the rough, halting tongue of their kind. It seemed Murtagh as well as I could understand them however, something he must have picked up from his days in Uru'Baen. They seemed to be disagreeing over something.

"-We will not return until we have found him, as we were ordered." Hissed the largest one, who was now clenching his fists by his sides.

"Now? In his own home city? With only three of us? It would be a slaughter, and we would be the dead. I say we return, and speak to our Leader," this came from the smallest of the three.

"Speak to the Leader? Why should we condone to inform him? Are we his puppets? Why should we not return to our tribe while we still can?" the third said, spearing another piece of meat.

"That was my stance all along. Why should the Urgralgra answer to a Shade?-

My hearing seemed to stop momentarily as I heard that word. A Shade. A nudge from Murtagh brought me back to my senses, and I re focused on the party.

"So we are of one accord."

"Yes. We take Stronghammer, and bring him to our own commander-

"-Wait. What was that?"

"There!"

No time to think, I grabbed Murtagh and together, we ran.

_Firnen! They have realised our presence! Come quickly!_

_**You must try and get out of this path, we cannot access it from the air.**_

_They are gaining on us_

_**Look for a place to hide then, but do so quickly. I will lure them out form you.**_

A huge roar suddenly ripped through the valley, and the Urgals looked up in utter bewilderment, and then fear. Quickly, I dragged Murtagh across to the small cavern I had located on our run, it was small, but the entrance was mostly obscured by a rock, and there was a good chance the Urgals might miss it in their confusion. It would also be easier to defend.

"Wait!" shouted the largest, who must have been the leader, for the others, even in their fear, stopped their run.

"They cannot have gotten far. Even if there are dragons, they will not get through to here. We should wait them out."

To our dismay, the other two agreed, and the Urgals, after a quick sweep of the surrounding vicinity, proceeded to make another small campfire barely a hundred metres from our hiding place. I didn't think they could hear us though. Murtagh must have made the same assumption, because he started to speak.

"If they're after Roran we have to tell Nasuada, for his own protection." His whisper was brief, but urgent. An edge laced his voice, and I nodded, taking out a slightly bent rock and pouring the liquid from my skin into it.

"Draumr kopa," I said as quietly as I could, and sure enough, Nasuada's face swam into view.

"Arya-?"

"-Please, be quiet. We are hiding from a small band or Urgals, and must be brief."

Nasuada nodded for me to continue.

"They are trying to target Roran, to bring him to a Shade, he must be protected as soon as possible."

"It will be done. And Arya, please tell Murtagh that I still have the flower,"

Murtagh all but shoved me to the side as he slid in front of the makeshift mirror.

"I am glad. And I will keep my promise, I will return to you."

Nasuada nodded, and then the connection was closed. The Urgals looked completely settled, and I knew it was going to be a long night.

"I say we wait for them to get complacent, then surprise them. Then we get to the end of this wretched valley and fly further North." I whispered, looking at Murtagh, who nodded his assent.

I lay back, as did he, though my eyes were trained on the Urgals, and my ears were ready to hear any slight disturbance.

After an hour or two, the Urgals moved slightly further away, no doubt thinking we had gone further down the path. They were now definitely out of earshot, and it was making me uneasy.

A slight sound came from beside me, but I ignored it and kept focusing on the Urgals, who were moving again. Then, I realised I knew the tune, and Murtagh was the one singing it softly. I looked at him in surprise. It was a tune often taught to elf children, and unheard of in Galbatorix's court.

"Who taught you that?" I asked him curiously, "It was forbidden at the court, the punishment would have been severe for even knowing it."

"My mother sang it to me as a child. It's one of the only memories I really have of her, it always seems to appear in places. In my dreams, in quiet moments. I don't really know what it means. It sounded melancholy, like her. Like me."

"It is the story of Loriel and Elraen. They were lovers, but Loriel was mortal, and eventually, when she died, Elraen killed himself to join her. It is indeed melancholy, but the ending is almost happy when you understand that they are together, in a way."

Murtagh seemed lost in thought, his eyes slightly glassy as he replied. "How do you know it?"

"It was sung to me as a child also. It's very common where I lived."

A silence fell, permeated by Murtagh's light whisper. "Mortal."

Suddenly, the silence was broken with a large roar, and I found myself staring into the face of the largest Urgal.

**Dundundun. My first cliffie :D Well, I'll try to update as soon as I can, but until then, there's this lovely little button under this text. It has the word 'review' on it ;)**


	11. Pride Comes Before A Fall

**Well hello again! :D I have finally decided where I'm going to take the story next, and for the ten millionth time, am trying to forget that I have French homework to do so I can write it... It's becoming a bit of a joke now, when I get French homework, I seem to find extra time to write my fanfiction... Oh well...**

**To RestrainedFreedom, I actually kicked myself when I realised my stupidity...I was trying to get across that they were trying to hide because they didn't want the Urgals to know that they knew of the Shade, and that they didn't want a fight in case that alerted others that they were there, because they are trying to be secret, but I guess I didn't write it well enough... Thanks for the honesty though, it helps way more than people saying it's good all the time :D I appreciate it :D**

**Anyway, thanks to my awesome friend R who inadvertently gave me the idea for this chapter while talking to me in Biology :D Wheels on the bus... (to all you readers, I'm not crazy, that's just an in joke) **

**As always, thanks to all the reviewers, who have got me an AMAZING 81 reviews at last count :D I love you all :D**

**And so, after a ridiculously long AN, on to the story...**

Murtagh POV

I stab the Urgal without a second thought, all thoughts of trying to remain inconspicuous gone. They knew we were here after all. Arya gets to her feet quickly, just as the second is coming at me with surprising strength, but it's nothing for me, and I quickly dodge the blow and parry, Arya now fighting the last Urgal with ease. The Urgal misses me by an inch, and I take advantage of the opening, stabbing my blade through his heart. Arya decapitates her opponent easily, and together we view our handiwork.

"We should hide the bodies, give ourselves a headstart," I say, wiping my blade clean. Arya nods, and mutters something in the Ancient Language. The rock begins to ripple and change shape, before folding over the bodies and re setting.

"If the Shade comes to investigate, he will know what I have done, but I suspect we will have at least three days to get out of this area." Arya says, reaching for the Urgals' possessions. Opening them, we find assorted cooking materials, weapons, and a tightly rolled scroll of paper. Unravelling it, we read the flowing script.

_Once Stronghammer has been captured, he must be brought to the Western edge of Du Weldenvarden, whereupon we will demand for the Shadeslayer to return and give himself up in exchange_

Arya gives out a cry as she realises their plan, but I read on.

_More orders will follow soon. Deliver this to Anrag by no later than a week_

I guessed that one of the dead Urgals must be Anrag, seeing as they were trying to capture Roran. Arya had grown very still, and was sitting on a small boulder staring into nothing. I walked over to her.

"They're not going to get Eragon." I told her, but inwardly I wasn't so sure. If Roran was captured, it was true, he would give himself up, the stupid idiot. Arya looked at me, knowing what I knew.

"All we need to do is protect Roran and defeat this Shade before they can get to him," I continued, blocking my half brother from my mind. He wasn't in danger. Yet.

"We inform Nasuada, so she can concentrate on protecting Roran, and then we continue with our own task." I finish with all the finality I can summon.

_Thorn!_

_**I am coming. Don't worry, it won't come to what you are thinking**_

_I wasn't-_

_**He'll be fine.**_

With a thud, Thorn and Firnen landed at the opening to the narrow valley. I took Arya's hand, she was still deathly pale, and together we walked to where our dragons waited. Mounting Thorn, I tried to keep all my worries out of my mind.

_**We should teach them some manoeuvres**_

_Oh yes. Maybe some corkscrews?_

_**Corkscrews?**_

_While flying backwards_

_**Better. Tell her.**_

Tentatively, I reached out a small tendril of thought towards Arya's consciousness, making sure every memory and secret I had were well protected first. Her mind was like an iron cage, and she caught me in her grip in a moment, before recognising me and relinquishing her hold. Like my own, her mind was still heavily guarded.

_We're not so different as you think._

_What do you want?_

_Thorn and I want to start teaching you_

_Oh. Now?_

_You did come on the mission_

_I am perfectly aware of that Murtagh. _Arya snapped, before resuming her usual polite tone. _Begin then._

_You don't like being told what to do, do you?_

_As many have found out. Are you going to teach us or not?_

_It's quite fun teasing you actually_

_Murtagh._

_Fine. Try flying against the wind first, then I want Firnen to descend in a spiral while executing a backward turn._

_Fine. _Arya said, her irritation flying across our mental link, before she cut it off, only leaving the smallest tendril linking us together as she spoke to Firnen.

Promptly, they began to fly against the wind, as I'd instructed, and managed to spiral, but as for the backward loop, they only managed maybe a half turn before they were forced to pull out of the dive. Annoyance from Arya seeped across our link.

_Not that easy is it?_

_Refrain from speaking right now Murtagh._

_Touchy, touchy._

_It needs practice._

_Why are you so annoyed?_

_That is purely your imagination._

_Don't like being perfect?_

_Give us something else to try._

_Fine. _Briefly I consulted with Thorn.

_Try the same spiral but come out of it just before the ground, in the same half twist you did just then._

_Which is easier?_

_I don't think you should try the full turn again._

_Then how will I get better?_

_Arya-_

_I'm going to try again._

Our link was severed abruptly.

_Thorn?_

_**She's being reckless to prove you wrong. **_

_I know, so what do we do? _

_**Let her learn from her mistake?**_

_It's dangerous_

_**I suppose. I'll try to cut them off.**_

Arya and Firnen were already descending however, corkscrewing nearer and nearer to the ground. Thorn descended as well, but not in time, as Firnen executed a perfect backward loop, but the timing was wrong, and I could do nothing but watch helplessly as they slammed into the ground.

_THORN!_

Thorn bent into a full blown spiral, his wings tucked against his body as the wind pummelled my face. Landing, I saw Firnen struggling with his wing bent in an odd position. Arya herself lay a good twenty metres away. I ran to Firnen, intent on healing him, but he simply let out a roar. I nodded, and ran to Arya first. She lay face down, her clothing torn from the bushes she had crashed into in her roll down the small embankment. Gently, I turned her over. Her face was mostly fine, but a sharp branch had pierced her stomach. She moaned as she opened her eyes.

"Firnen-"

"Is, luckily, mainly fine, no thanks to your stupidity." I snap at her, my voice becoming angry to hide my worry as blood spread across her shirt. She glares at me, but then, surprisingly, nods.

"I'm sorry." She whispers.

I nod. Then I grasp the stick firmly, and without any warning, pull it free quickly, ignoring her cry of pain, I quickly mutter in the Ancient Language. The spell is fairly complicated, as she went and tore her muscle, but after a minute the smooth flesh is whole again, only the blood on her clothing in evidence on her wound.

_**She ok?**_

_Is now. Firnen?_

_**Needs your help.**_

_I don't think Arya can walk that well, and I don't have the strength to heal both her and Firnen._

_**So carry her here. It won't kill you.**_

_Great._

_**She did apologise.**_

_I suppose._

I looked down at Arya for a second, the swiftly picked her up. She was thin, as light as a small sack of potatoes, and normally would probably have broken my arm, but was obviously weakened by the fall and did nothing.

"This makes a change." I say nonchalantly, smirking at her. "You in my arms,"

"One more word and I don't care if it kills me, I will break your neck." She says politely, looking me straight in the eye.

"I just saved your life." I retort.

"Exaggeration. I would have been fine." She answers, glaring at me again.

"Will you stop with the evil looks and be grateful?"

"I apologised for my recklessness. We're even."

"Actually, right now, you owe me."

"Heal Firnen."

"And put you down?"

"Murtagh."

"Fine."

I place her on the floor and walk over to Firnen, who is watching me with his great emerald eye, obviously finding the situation funny if not painful.

"Waise Heill" I say, it's a clean break and requires nothing else. My energy drops, and I walk to where I put Arya down.

"We'll have to camp here for the night I suppose." I tell her, without waiting for an answer I whisper Brisingr softly to a couple of branches to start the fire. Then I unwrap my pack and lay out the tough woven blanket, laying down on it without another word.

It takes a few minutes of silence, but then she speaks again.

"I am sorry, Murtagh."

I look at her. "It's fine. I tried much the same thing a thousand times."

"Wasn't Galbatorix angry?"

"Of course. That soon taught us a lesson." I laugh harshly as I remember the many sessions of pain we went through.

"That night, when I found you by the inn. I wanted to apologise for being no dismissive. Of all people I should have been more sympathetic."

"You mean Gil'ead? That's nothing compared to Uru'Baen."

"I'm sure it is."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to say that you being tortured was less important. I saw what he did."

"It's fine. You're right anyway."

"Even now?"

"If you want to be."

"Arya?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you chose to come."

"Thank you."

**DA DA! That's it for now again As always, please tell me what you think, honest reviews are lovely **


	12. Grey Eyes

**Writer's Block. It kills. That is my pathetic excuse for not updating in nearly a month.**

**My piece of news today? Well, it was minus 14 last night, which froze a pipe in our house. Our parents went away for the weekend, and what happens? The pipe cracks, turning the ceiling of our kitchen into a fountain and me into a hysterical crazy person screaming at my brother to get buckets, call our mum, and call the plumber (repeated many times). Thanks to some very kind neighbours, we managed to confine the flood to the kitchen, which will probably need some work done to it now... **

**So, after a very long wait, I give you Chapter 12 :D Plus, a headsup that the 100****th**** reviewer is gonna get a huge shoutout :D (bribery oh bribery)**

Murtagh POV (Cause' Nasuada is just signing papers and being slightly worried)

I roll the little rose between my fingers. I carved it a few days ago from a little stone, to help order my thoughts. It reminds me of her. Reminds me of my promise.

It seems Arya and I have become friends again, in a mutual annoyed way. I guess she feels like she owes me something or something elvish like that, which is total nonsense but keeps her from questioning me every five minutes. We've been out here for nearly a month now, trying to find the Urgals who just don't want to be found. Plus Arya's kind of edgy about the Shade, but refuses to go into it right now. I guess I can understand that. Shade's aren't really her thing after all.

When she talks to Eragon through their little mirrors, she utterly changes, her face lights up like a candle, only to be snuffed out when he leaves. She's talking to him now, telling him more about the Shade's plan, which is as predicted getting him all worried. He's going on twenty and looks double as soon as Arya tells him, lines forming, creasing around his brown eyes that are so unlike my grey. He has his father's eyes. I got our mother's.

They've finished talking now. Arya's putting the little mirror back in her pack with a blank look on heh face. Firnen growls quietly from above, where Thorn is making use of time to teach him more acrobatic manoeuvres.

_Talk to her. You said it yourself, you're both more alike than you think._

I take a deep breath and tuck the stone rose into my pocket, stepping through the valley's dust to approach Arya, who's sitting utterly still by her pack. She looks so sad, like a statue carved in misery and despair that I sit down next to her and do something I wouldn't have dared just a week ago. I put my arm around her shoulders, so cold and stiff, and gradually she relaxes into me holding her.

I feel something wet on my arm and realise to my shock that she's crying. Silent tears. Not even one sound does she make as they fall down her perfect alabaster cheek.

"Arya?" I whisper softly, a question on my face. She doesn't answer. I know what she would though. She loves him. The Queen of the Elves, a woman of over a century old loves my nineteen year old brother. Yet just like me, she cannot have him. I remember something from long ago, just as I had that night in the cave.

"_And you'll be safe, with me" _

_The beautiful lady finishes singing her song. It's made her cry now. I don't want her to cry. She doesn't look anything like my nursemaid. She has this pretty dark red hair that curls as it falls, with really pale skin and high cheekbones. And she has grey eyes. My eyes. She doesn't look like Father at all. Someone's calling her now, telling her Father needs her, that she has to leave me. I don't want her to go, she hardly ever comes to see me. She only came tonight because our gardener found her. He calls her Selena, not Lady like the other servants. I wonder why he's special. She looks sad again, and I want more than anything to make her smile, but she just tells me not to remember that song and leaves me alone. Alone in this horrible room._

I remember learning the song anyway, when I was older I would sing it when I was alone, trying to hold on to the one memory of my mother I could remember properly.

I look at Arya in my arms, still silently crying. I realise she is a mirror of me. We are like the people in the song, forever doomed not to be with the ones we love until we die. I can never be with Nasuada so long as she is Queen, and Eragon is gone. We both of us will have to watch them die as we live on, walking this bitter world alone. Just like Loriel, Nasuada is mortal. She cannot live on with me.

Brokenly, my voice halting, I start to sing another song, not of Loriel and Elraen, but one of how I feel. I pour out my heart into the melody, tears now adorning my face as I remember dancing with Nasuada. To think I have always been so strong. I remember what I told Eragon once. No stranger's life is more important than my own. But she isn't a stranger. I'm twirling her around again and again as the music makes her laugh, as she declares I love her.

_Murtagh, this will only bring you pain,_

_**I'd ...I'd rather have one lifetime with her... than two thousand walking on my own.**_

I think of all my memories of her, my feelings for her, my near admission in Uru'Baen in the Hall of the Soothsayer.

_**I love her.**_

_Oh Murtagh...You will always have me-_

_**I know-**_

_And I will help you whatever you decide_

My song ends and Arya looks at me, no longer crying but her cheeks still wet.

"You're a good singer Murtagh," she says, before getting up from our seat. Suddenly, she turns.

"Thank you," she whispers, so quiet the wind almost carries it away, but I nod in admission.

"Do you always feel like this?" she asks me in another barely there voice betraying how fragile she really is.

"Always," I tell her, Nasuada's face still laughing in my mind as we twirl around and around, so fast it feels as if we are flying. But we're not, and we have to come down again. As always.

**Hope you liked this chapter :D **


	13. Eragon

**First off: 100 REVIEW SHOUTOUT! To ArianaLangdon, this chapter is dedicated to you, the 100****th**** reviewer :D Huge hug to you :D**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Murtagh POV

We see them before they see us. It only takes a moment for us to conceal ourselves inside the nearby shrubbery, and then we watch to see who this party are. Two lead the company, a group of maybe twenty or so, half of which are definitely Kull. Arya's getting ready to fight when we see the standard they carry, it's Nasuada's.

"Should we reveal ourselves?" I whisper quickly, "There are Kull, after all,"

"They bear our standard though, and look at the leader," Arya's tone grew sour as she pointed. Looking, I saw who she had seen. Kendar, riding in front, the councillor's golden chain around his neck, proclaiming his allegiance. I nod, and together we step out to greet them. They draw closer and closer, encircling us, as Kendar dismounts, his arms open and a smile on his face, as the second dismounts, his face shrouded by his cloak. Arya seems to stiffen slightly, and quickly, in barely a second, she whispers a line to me.

"This feels wrong," she says, too quick for Kendar to catch. The shrouded figure's head goes up slightly, and we both realise it at the same time that he caught it. She's right, something is wrong. If it was an elf, why would he be shrouded?

_**I think you two should leave**_ Thorn presses into my mind, his tone uneasy.

_He's on our side _I answer

"Arya, Murtagh, how good it is to find you both!" Kendar says, a smile on his face as he closes the remaining two metres between us. Arya's expression remains cold, and then it happens.

Our weapons are gone, flung a good fifty metres into the woods behind us. I cannot move, and neither, it seems, can Arya. Kendar swiftly takes out a dagger and holds it to her throat, a Kull simultaneously doing the same to me as the shrouded figure finally takes off his cloak.

It's a Shade.

Desperately I try to throw off his attack, throwing every one of my mental barriers against him, Thorn helping me, but inexplicably, it has no effect. Arya is obviously doing the same thing, but still the Shade does nothing but give us a half smile, showing his pointed, filed teeth.

"Bind them." The Shade tells the Kull, who waste no time in securing ropes around me, all the while keeping me immobilized. Kendar does Arya, tying them much too tight and much too roughly while she quite obviously focuses her energy on the Shade.

"You will both do exactly as we say, if your dragons try to attack you will both be killed instantly, with no second chances." the Shade pronounces. The knife is still at my throat, cutting into my skin a little, just enough to draw blood.

I'm starting to weaken him, I can tell. A vein is throbbing on his lily white neck. Another few minutes and he'll be ours. Something he must have guessed, because he smiles again at us and takes a small waterskin from his pack. It's a strange skin, black leather embossed with a strange seal. The hold on us has lessened considerably, and I know more than anything I don't want to drink whatever it is. I strain against the harsh ropes, fighting the Shade's spell, but the knife simply presses harder into my neck. Arya fares a bit better, and manages to headbutt Kendar before the Shade's magic subdues her as well. He goes to her first, as an elf, I know she's probably more of a threat to him.

_We will come_

_**No! Don't get yourselves killed! They'll just attack you and kill us, it won't solve anything. We don't know what they want yet!**_

_I won't abandon you_

_**You're not, this is the best way, trust me**_

_Murtagh-_

_**Please Thorn**_

My thoughts are interrupted as Kendar hits Arya back in retaliation. I try again to break his bonds, but my strength is weakening from the effort. The Shade smiles at her before forcing her to drink from the waterskin, her mouth bloody from where Kendar hit her. I can just make out a distant roar that I know to be Firnens, and I guess that their connection has been severed. It must be the same drug that suppresses your powers. Kendar laughs as she quite clearly shrinks back into the ropes that bind her, powerless now. Then he approaches me.

_Murtagh!_

_**There's no way out of this Thorn, don't try to attack, it'll end in blood, you have to tell Nasuada and the others about Kendar, he still wore his chain so she might not know he's betrayed us. They were north of the valley at last check so we'll probably be taken there-**_

The Shade is forcing the skin into my mouth. I can taste Arya's blood on the leather. He's holding my nose, forcing me to drink it. I can feel Thorn slipping away from me, the thing I swore would never happen again. I know it's futile to resist, but still I try.

_**I'll try...to make sure Arya's okay...Thorn...**_

_Let me come_

_**..No..**_

_What can I do! _Thorn's voice emanates in my consciousness, powerful, undeniable. Then I realise.

_**Eragon **_

Then our connection is severed, leaving me alone.

**Dada! I hope that was okay and y'all liked it XD ERAGON XD **

**Please feel free to review! *hint**


	14. Traitor

**...Looked up a song on another fanfiction...found it on Youtube...listened to Trading Yesterday for the next two hours...**

**As always, thanks to every single awesome reviewer! 3**

**Aaaaaaaaaaand it's back to Nasuada...**

Nasuada POV

The papers seemed even higher today, an ever growing obligation that I must muddle through. Looking out the arched window to my right, my thoughts, as usual, turned to where he was. He hadn't sent a missive for nearly a week now, and a nagging in the back of my mind was beginning to form that I couldn't quite grasp.

Suddenly, a huge roar breaks through the silence of the morning. It is terrifying, unhinged almost. Then, a great presence enters my mind. I try to throw up my defences, but the being crushes them almost effortlessly, forcing me to submit.

_They were taken! _The voice says, all fire and anger, a being more powerful than any other that lives. I know it for Thorn, and I find myself running through the corridors towards the courtyard, shouting at the guards to fetch my council along the way.

_**How? **_I ask, my mind teeming with possibilities.

_A traitor. There was a company of fifteen, with two at the head, one shrouded. The other was Kendar. He lured them into security while the other, a Shade, crippled them. He was strong beyond belief, trained, powerful, and before they could break his spells they were drugged. _

_**Drugged?**_

_So they could not use magic. They were helpless as soon as they drank it. Murtagh told me to reach Eragon._

_**And Kendar orchestrated this?**_

_He was more a puppet. Traitor!_

Another roar filled the vicinity, one that chilled me to my bones. I fought to keep my hold on sanity as my guards threw open the great oaken doors. Murtagh.

"Arrest him!" I scream at no one in particular, but three guards appear, Jormunder now close behind.

"Who?" he asks me, worry clearly on his face.

"Kendar!" I shout, "Where is he?"

"He left this morning to visit the northern villages. What is going on?" Jormunder says, crushing my hope with his words.

Thorn's voice fills the courtyard as he lands, startling Jormunder. Firnen lands seconds later, as agitated as Thorn.

_TRAITOR! _

"They were both taken. Drugged. Probably as influence." I say brokenly, trying still to stand straight as I try not to think of what they must be doing to him. Torture for sure. Arya. For it to happen again.

Jormunder's face goes pale as he realises the situation.

"What do we do?" he asks me.

"What we were told. Contact Eragon. He is stronger than most anyone in this land, Saphira too. And we know he would help us, no matter what his fates said." I answer, keeping my voice steady. "In the meantime, send out a warrant for Kendar's arrest."

Jormunder nods and begins shouting my orders to the Chief of the Guard, to the councillors who have appeared. Eragon. I turn and run back into the castle, knocking past courtiers with no regard as to who they are until I reach my chamber, where the mirror hangs upon the wall. Eragon gave it to me before his departure.

I whisper the three words he taught me, and the surface shimmers. A minute passes, and then he slides into view. Older. More powerful.

"Nasuada?" he says, "To what do I owe this audience?"

"The situation has worsened. One of our own has turned traitor and as a result, Murtagh and Arya have been captured. Drugged. I'm asking for your help."

Eragon's face seems to grow haggard as he hears their fate, the colour draining from his face.

"You ask me to return?" Eragon asks slowly.

"Yes." Is all I say.

He looks blank for a moment, and I know he is conversing with Saphira. Then he looks back.

"I will come."

**Okay, I know this is quite short, but I'm updating two chapters in compensation :D**

**Please review!**


	15. A Child

**Aaaand it's Murtagh!**

**Thanks to all amazing, wonderful reviewers!**

Murtagh POV

An involuntary scream is ripped from my lips as the iron brands me again. My resolve broke hours ago, and all I can think of is how she must have felt as I did this to her, again and again. Arya lies across the room from me, unconscious. It took three days of enduring, both of us determined to stay strong, emotionless. Then I don't know what happened. She just seemed to lose her grip on something, some small thing connecting her to our world. Her eyes lost their colour, it was as if she had died. The Shade had carried on tormenting her, even as I screamed every word I could think of at him, but she had drifted away. Locked inside her own world of memories.

The burns seem to intensify every second, if anything they get more painful. I can't help myself watching as the iron burns into my flesh again and again. I almost learn to expect it. Expect the same questions.

"How do we get to the Queen?"

"What wards are around her?"

"How do we infiltrate the city?"

"Where is the elves' capital?"

My response stays the same. Utter silence. Broken by more pain, but I refuse to tell him anything. The Shade enjoyed it at first, a sadistic kind of enjoyment from torturing us, but now he's getting frustrated, I can tell. He's tried to break my mind twice now, but even with everything, I can just manage to keep him out.

Still, it's getting harder. I have to make sure I don't think of her when he attempts to breach my mind. He could use me against her.

I'm drawn back to the present with another sharp stab of agony. The Shade smiles at me and bends down, so close he's almost touching me, and whispers.

"It could all end. Just say the word."

So enticing.

"I gave up my freedom once. That will not happen again." I answer, and with my last drop of energy I manage to spit in his face. His expression sours.

"So be it." He says, in a silky, smooth voice. More dangerous than before. "Then you will watch me hurt her and see if that loosens your tongue."

I try to pull at my restraints for the thousandth time, but all I succeed in doing is chafe my raw skin even more. I cannot use magic. I'm exhausted from the hours of torture. I can do nothing as he bends over Arya and pours cold water into her face to revive her.

Her eyes find me. Then the iron brands her. Once, twice. Then she starts to scream, a raw sound that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. The Shade is emotionless as he asks me the questions, over and over. I don't answer. I hurl all the abuse I can think of at him, but all it does is make it worse. He takes out a small flask and pours a little of the liquid onto an open burn on Arya's leg. The sound she makes is inhumane, defined only by pain. I think of giving in. My lips start to form the words, but unbidden, her face comes into my mind. Nasuada. Then Thorn. Arya herself. Eragon. I stay silent.

He pours a little more liquid onto her, but I force myself to try to block out her screams.

_We're dancing, the music becoming faster as she says the words._

"_Because you love me"_

My world goes black.

...

When I awake, I'm in the small cell, on the floor. It's completely bare, solid stone, windowless, the door has three locks. There's not even a cot, just a ragged blanket, if you can call it that, in the corner. Arya lies facing away from me. Dried blood marks her now emaciated frame, and she shivers slightly even in her sleep. I crawl towards her, trying to ignore the pain as the stone scrapes against my wounds. Disgust overwhelms me as I take in her now shaved head, the many cuts and bruises adorning her body. She looks so utterly alone. She doesn't look like the proud Arya I knew. She reminds me of a child. Of myself, when my back was flayed open. Wanting something better. It is that feeling I have as I envelop my arms around her, drawing her into me. Her eyelids flutter briefly, her breathing is shallow. I can hear footsteps in the hallway. The door's shutter opens and a guard looks through.

He looks almost pityingly at the two of us. I take my chance.

"Help us!" I say, my voice breaking slightly. He simply shakes his head and closes the shutter.

Arya's awake now.

"Arya?" I ask her gently. A month of travelling and a week of seeing her tortured in front of me has changed my perception of her. I care for her.

She doesn't answer, her eyes seeing something only she can see. Then a brief whisper.

"Eragon."

The word seems disconnected, like it's something only she knows. My minds draws the conclusion again that Arya has snapped. Something inside her has gone. The Shade has brought her back to the place she thought she'd escaped. I guess I would be the same if Galbatorix appeared again.

She looks so much like a child. I find myself thinking of the books I read about Ellesmera, and find myself speaking to her again.

"You're in the gardens of your city. By the Great Hall of your ancestors. All around you you hear birdsong, the wind rustling through the trees. Laughter. You can feel the grass under your bare feet, your hair blown backwards. Everything is calm, as it should be. It's warm, and the sky is the brightest blue,"

Arya's eyes are closing again, imagining the picture I am painting for her.

"And you're safe," I finish, as she drifts back into unconsciousness.

Gently I lean against the wall of the cell. I wonder, even if we do get out of here, if Arya is ever going to be as she was again.

**Thanks for reading! ...Hopefully an update will be up quicker this time...I will try...**

**Reviews are always very welcome...**


	16. Rescue

**I made chocolate biscuit cake today...I'm using it as self bribery to finish chapters quicker...**

**Three updates in two days. I'm proud of myself.**

**So, as always, thanks to the reviewers/readers and enjoy the chapter!**

Murtagh POV

My back screams in protest as I'm thrown onto the harsh stone floor of our cell. Blood drips onto the floor yet again as I retreat to my corner of the room. At first, I made little notches in the wall with my fingernails, but now I'm so disoriented I no longer know if its night or day, or even how long I've been here. That, and my fingernails became cracked and useless. My entire body aches in places I never even knew it could, the burns seem to grow more painful by the minute. Then the new form of torture, the same liquid he used on Arya three sessions ago. It has a strange, sharp smell that could almost be sweet. The Shade boasted of how he extracted it from oil using his spells. He hasn't deigned to tell us his name, but I suppose that's how I like it. It makes him seem inanimate, impersonal. Easier to tuck away in some corner of my mind.

_"You've got me." She whispers, kneeling in front of me and looking into my eyes as if she can read my very soul. "I swear to you, no matter where you go, no matter what duties I shall have, you have me. I love you. For better or worse, I am yours."_

_"Then you are a fool" I whisper back, but still I kiss her as her arms wrap themselves about my neck._

I can still smell her. Lavender and honey and spices. I can feel her hair under the rough skin of my hands. I remember how it fell around her face in waves of chestnut, catching the sunlight.

The door grates open with a clang as the locks are wrenched off. Arya's slim frame is tossed into the cell. I barely manage to catch her before the door slams shut again. I have no doubt if she fell she would break a bone. Her wounds are oozing a clear liquid, and some of her burns are turning yellow around the edges, infected. The flesh itself is white, and around the burn on her leg there are red streaks under her skin. Blood poisoning. Added on to the lack of food and her current mental state, and I conclude she won't last much longer. They'll either let her die or heal some of her wounds. The knowledge seems to burn the insides of me, until I snap and hit the wall.

Pain shoots through my hand, lacerating through every pore. I've fractured it at least, blood now coming from the cracked skin around my knuckes. I don't regret it however. If anything I relish the pain. It is my punishment. My punishment for not being able to do anything. Useless Murtagh. Murtagh the packhorse, that was what I once told Eragon.

I don't know what I feel about Eragon. We were friends for those few months, I had accepted that, but when I was taken- I don't know. Resentment. Anger. Then finding out he was my brother. I still remember the hate pouring through my veins as I realised my mother had saved him and not me. How he had grown up in the Valley with all his family while I suffered at court. My task to capture him was almost a relief, until he fought me. My little brother was just so damn innocent. I hate him and love him for that. Helping him defeat the King, I think made him see me as someone he could be friends with again, eventually. Like Roran. Then he left. I left. Now, yet again, it seems he has to be the one to save everyone. That annoys me.

I cannot truly hate him though. He's too good for me to be able to do that.

Arya stirs slightly, but still her eyes don't open. I rip off some of the cloth from my shirt, from the cleanest part I can, and use it to bandage the worst of her wounds. Then, her eyes open, and to my disbelief I see her undoing the knots and taking the bandages off. I knock her hand away to stop her.

"What are you doing?" I ask her, my voice cracking from the long hours of screaming. This has got to be her first lucid moment since those first few days.

"I don't want to carry on...If this is what it will be...Let me die..." she whispers brokenly.

"Yes you do. You can't die. What about Eragon huh? It would kill him too" I retort, grabbing her hand before she can do any more damage to my poor work.

"All I can see is faces..."she whispers back, her eyes glazing over, "I see him..."

Then she starts rambling about Durza, and some elf called Faolin I've never heard of. Her mother.

"I don't...know what's real" she finishes, staring at me with the strangest expression on her face. I would laugh if this were any other situation. She looks like a deer about to be killed, not who she was. Proud. Stubborn. Superior. Vaguely annoying at times.

"Let me tell you then." I say to her, but suddenly, it seems her lucidness is gone, for she starts screaming again. I don't even know why. Her hands are covering her ears, blocking something out that only she hears. I don't know what to do.

"Hey! Shut her up or we will!" the guards outside are yelling.

"Well, after a bit of fun!" shouts another.

My stomach clenches at what they're suggesting, I can feel the familiar ball of hate rising inside me. Still she screams, until I can think of nothing else and hit her on her head, just enough to make her unconscious. Then I take off my shirt and use it to cover her, she's shivering again, before resuming my seat in the corner, waiting.

...

BANG!

Startled, I look around me, for it seems the very world is caving in. Habit makes my hand go to my side, where Zar'roc would normally be, and I curse as I realise how defenceless I am. I hear a series of thumps from outside the door, a yell, and then a huge roar that shakes the very stone as the door crashes open, revealing my younger brother.

Our eyes meet briefly, before he takes in Arya. In less than a second he's got her in his arms, staring at her like he hasn't seen her in a hundred years. Despite my pain, I'm tempted to laugh at the expression he has, but I don't, because it reminds me of my own when I saw Nasuada for the first time. In that moment, there is nothing but you and her, and nothing else matters so long as you can work it out. Another roar fills the vicinity, and Eragon seems to come back to his senses.

"Where are your weapons?" he asks quickly, looking at me again.

"Haven't seen them since we were taken. Probably got taken by Kendar. He would have got a kick out of that." I answer trying to keep the hostility from my voice. It's not that I'm not pleased to see him, it's just that I hate being defenceless, having to be saved. Eragon seems to understand this, because he's taken the least threatening pose he possibly can. Not that he'd be very threatening anyway with Arya in his arms. Looking at her, he looks angrier than I've ever seen him, his brown eyes blazing with hatred at whoever did that to her.

"Shade." Is what I tell him. "She's sort of lost right now."

Then another crash comes from around us, and we're running. Through the corridors, we meet a group of eight men, who drop down a second later at a word from my brother.

"Why aren't we fighting them? That was our mission after all!" I yell at him. I don't want to flee. I want revenge. Eragon looks back.

"The main force isn't here, neither is the Shade. He fled as soon as he saw Saphira. I would have followed but I didn't know how you two were. His little rebellion force has regrouped to the East, on the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden. We'll meet them in battle there." He explains, not stopping for breath as we reach a hole in the stone walls, leading to the massive courtyard. Then I see her.

My first thought is how massive she is. Since I last saw her she must have grown another six feet at least. Her scales are brilliant in the moonlight. She is beautiful in the most fearsome way, powerful, majestic. Once again I curse Galbatorix for killing so many of her race.

She looks at Arya first, then me, fixing me with her great sapphire gaze.

_Well met Murtagh _Says a voice around us. It isn't inside my mind, which I'm grateful for. I swore never to have someone inside my mind again, save of course Thorn. It's detestable. Then we're climbing up her great foreleg into the saddle, Eragon still clutching Arya as if he can't bear to let her go. A few half hearted archers attempt at aiming at us, but another word from Eragon and their weapons are gone. They flee quickly after that. Then we fly.

The wind buffets my face in the most wonderful way. I've missed this. I know now I'm not taking the drug I'll be able to hear Thorn again. Eragon is healing Arya already, not even waiting to get on the ground.

"Her mind will need some help as well," I tell him as Saphira flies us through the air. It's true, I know it. Arya's damaged. Even more so than before. And her annoying pride isn't going to help matters.

Eragon looks at me properly for the first time, and mutters _waise heill _when he sees my wounds.

The relief is almost instantaneous, such blessed peace. The pain lessens by more than half, and I can't help smiling slightly as it abates further.

"Thank you," I say to him. He nods in answer.

"We'll reach the encampment within a day. Thorn's there. And Nasuada." He adds on her name with something that would have been a smirk if his face wasn't creased into lines over Arya. I nod back.

"Good."

"And Murtagh?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," is all he says, and I'm left to puzzle what exactly he's thanking me for.

**Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! My self bribery now complete, I'm getting my biscuit cake :D**


	17. Talking

**Aaaaaand I'm back! After chucking around a few ideas these past few days and deciding on just how to burn my French book, I've decided on the plotline I like. I've officially planned up to 99% of this story. And it's long. You are forewarned. **

**So, with the customary huge thank you to every single reviewer/reader/subscriber I get, here's the chapter:**

Nasuada POV

I can feel my stomach clenching as the largest dragon I've ever seen advances towards our encampment. I haven't seen Saphira in nearly two years, and she's grown at least six feet, making Firnen look tiny in comparison. The huge beats of her wings are sending up clouds of dust, causing our archers to shield their eyes. Anxiously, I focus on the second man.

Relief floods through me as I register him sitting upright, looking otherwise unharmed apart from a gash on his forehead and blood over his ripped clothes. Seeing as no wounds lie beneath the rips, I gather Eragon must have healed the worst of them. Behind me, Thorn roars to see his rider, smoke coming from his nostrils in impatient clouds. Firnen is quiet. I look at the woman and try my very best not to lose my composure as I see the amount of blood on her leather clothing. Part of it has been singed away, no doubt from hot irons, and briefly I shudder as I recall that awful feeling of dread as it comes towards you. The white hot pain as it touches your skin. Over and over. Arya herself look perfect, her skin unmarked from where Eragon again must have healed her. The elves stand perfectly, utterly still, their faces carved as if from stone.

Saphira lands with a roar, proclaiming her presence to all, and fixes me with her great sapphire eye.

_Well met Queen Nasuada_

_**And to you o' mighty one**_

Saphira bends to allow her riders to dismount, Murtagh goes first, a quick glance at me before he turns back to Eragon and Arya. Arya herself is looking straight ahead, her green eyes glassy. Eragon says something to Murtagh, and together they help her down. Firnen makes a low, mournful keen towards the skies. Something is wrong.

The threesome walk to where I stand with Orrin, Orik, Jormunder and Lord Dathedr. Lord Dathedr makes the customary obeisance to Arya, but she doesn't respond. The men are beginning to whisper.

"May I suggest we all convene in the main tent?" I say, trying to keep my nervousness from voice.

Murtagh and Eragon incline their heads. Still Arya does nothing. It disturbs me. Elves are strong, immortal, magical. To see one so, distant sends shivers down my spine as I wonder what was done to make her like this.

Murtagh POV

I go first after Nasuada. As we go through the tent's entrance I notice her hands shivering slightly, so I grasp her hand quickly before letting go as the others join us. I try to smile at her reassuringly, but it can't have come out right, because her mouth sets in a thin line.

I notice Orik stands as far away from me as he possibly can, his hand on his axe. I would laugh if it wasn't so serious. Then Jormunder stands by Nasuada, with Orrin. Eragon and the elf Lord stand by me with Arya, who resumes her blank stare.

"Murtagh, I assume that the both of you were, mistreated?" Nasuada says, going straight to the point. I nod in response. Then I realise they expect me to say more. Great.

"A Shade is controlling the Urgals, much like Durza-"

Arya shivers and Eragon glares at me. I glare back at him. Doe she really think just not mentioning him is going to make her go back to normal? If she's ever going to be normal.

"Much like Durza was." I continue, "Kendar gave him the information needed to capture us, and then they proceeded into trying to get more information from us, mainly about the elven cities. They went more for Arya because, being the ex-traitor, I'm not exactly trusted with that information. They wanted Eragon."

"Eragon?" Orik asks harshly, still fingering his axe.

"Well, he is just that little bit influential," I respond sarcastically. I honestly hate that dwarf.

"And Arya Drottning?" Lord Dathedr asks, indicating her.

"I don't know. She just seemed to lose something." I reply, looking at her. She hasn't shown even the slightest interest in our conversation.

"Well, wonderful." Orrin interjects, a sour look on his face. "And I suppose she's going to stay like this?"

I stare at him. Lord Dathedr gives him the most lethal look I've ever seen. A vein on Eragon's neck is throbbing.

"As the closest by kin, I would assume the title of regent until our Queen is recovered," Lord Dathedr puts forward. Nasuada is nodding.

"Yes. As for the Urgals, we will attack in three days hence. That should give us time to prepare the soldiers." She says, command evident in her voice. "As for now, I want everyone to leave this tent save Eragon, Murtagh, and Arya,"

The others begin to protest.

"Might I ask why we are being excluded?" Orik says angrily, Orrin murmuring in assent.

"I needs must speak to them alone." Is all Nasuada says in reply, fixing Orik with her gaze.

Slowly, they leave, until we are alone.

"My Lady?" I prompt her once the tent curtain falls.

"First, I just want to say how glad I am to see you all returned," Nasuada tells us. "Eragon, I thought never to look upon your face properly again. I expect you will want to see your family. They are here, on the west side of our camp. Yet I also need to know where you stand with Arya."

Eragon looks at her. "I think you both know. I think you've known for a long time."

Nasuada nods. "Then I take it you will be inseparable from her from now on?"

"I would not have it any other way unless it be against her will." Eragon answers.

"She's confused. Having Eragon around I think will help." I put forward. Nasuada makes a half smile at me.

"Good. Then for now, there is nothing more to discuss," she says.

I bow slightly, as does Eragon, and together we turn to leave the tent.

"Murtagh, wait a moment please,"

I turn about, only to find Nasuada wrapping her arms around me.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispers, and I realise she's crying. I hug her close to me.

"It's alright. Think of it this way, I've been branded too now, we're even,"

"I never thought of it that way Murtagh. I forgave you." Nasuada looks at me seriously.

"In my cell you know, I was remembering our conversation before I left. You told me you would give all this up for me."

She nods. "And I hold to that. I only have one lifetime Murtagh. I want it to be with you."

I shake my head. "No, Nasuada. This is what you're meant to be. One of the great Queens. Beloved of her people."

She steps back and regards me again. "I'm glad you're back."

I know I'm dismissed. I turn and leave the tent, hating myself. Then again, I've always hated myself. How could I sully something as wonderful as her with something so wretched as me?

Once outside the tent, I barely have a moment before my arm is grabbed. I reach for my sword before realising who it is.

"We need to talk." Eragon says, meeting my clear grey gaze with his brown.

**Yes, Murtagh most definitely has grey eyes. It's in the books. **

**Please, spend the next forty seconds of your life reviewing? Please?**


	18. Bow, Curtsey

**Stressful week. Exams. Exam results. Etc, etc.**

**In other news: I SAW THE HUNGER GAMES YESTERDAY! AND IT'S A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. X10000. Loved it so much- true to the books, great acting, bring on Catching Fire 3 with Garrett Hedlund as Finnick 3**

**So...here's the chapter :D**

**Ps: Murtagh has a sword on loan right now- I'm going to update the last chappie to include this :D (that might take a while cause by the time I finish this chap it'll be late and I'll want to sleep)**

Murtagh POV (a day after the last chap)

Eragon continues to lead me through the camp, neither of us saying a word. Stares follow us as we pass, friendly to Eragon, the hero, of course. Untrusting towards me. Of course. Curiosity. That's a new one. Eragon's hand rests on his sword's pommel. So far, not so good. Finally, we reach a relatively open stretch of land, just outside the borders of the camp, so we can't be heard.

Eragon turns round suddenly, his eyes blazing.

"How far did the guards go to make her like that?" he asks me, anger lacing his voice.

"Nothing worse than when we first found her." I answer, "It was her memories playing tricks on her. She couldn't figure out what was present and what was past. It all got muddled."

"And you did nothing to stop this?" he yells back at me.

I feel anger running through my own veins. Seriously? He's blaming me?

"Go to hell Eragon. Or didn't you notice the blood on my clothes too?" I shout back.

He has the grace to look slightly ashamed. That's novel. Just to make my point, I walk straight up to him, so close we're nearly touching.

"If I could have done anything, I would have. I would have torn those bastards limb from limb for what they did." I mutter looking him straight in the eye. He stands back.

"You care for her?" he asks me, "Thought you and Thorn were the loners?"

I laugh, a harsh sound so unlike a normal person's it makes me laugh harder.

"Yes, I care for her. Not in the way you think."

"Prove it." He retorts.

I flinch. "If you think for a second you're getting inside my head little brother-"

"I didn't say that. Swear it."

I smile briefly. "I don't make oaths anymore Eragon. Not for something as simple as this. You'll simply have to trust me. If you remember, it wasn't Arya I healed after the battle at Uru'Baen,"

Eragon surveys me for a second, then nods. "I just wanted to be sure,"

"What can we do, Murtagh?" he asks

"You're asking me?" I answer in surprise, "Why not your royalty buddies? I'm sure King Grudgeholder would love to give you advice,"

"You were there with her."

I look at the ground. I try to stare at the dirt instead of my memories. It doesn't help much. Not that it ever did.

"I was there for her. That was all. She was so wrapped up in herself she barely registered my face half the time. Now? She needs familiarity. Safety. Firnen's with her, right?"

Eragon nods. "Wouldn't move for anything."

"Keep it that way. Anything else?"

He nods again. "I'm glad you were with her. And 'King Grudgeholder' respects that too."

I hold his gaze for a second. Then I decide something.

I draw my sword.

Almost at once, the camp seems to come to life, all intent on me. Assessing me. Only Eragon understands. He draws his sword too. Simultaneously, we blunt the edges and begin to circle each other, looking for an advantage. It takes a minute, but I see it. With a shout, I run forward to lunge at his exposed side, but his sword blocks mine. I swing it back around, only for his to meet mine again. Again and again this happens before finally score a hit on his upper thigh. He retaliates seconds later with a tap on my upper forearm. So it goes on, the two of us hitting each other occasionally, but always within a few seconds of each other. He's better though. He proved it in Uru'Baen. I wonder why he's holding back. Maybe it's just because my brother is so inherently good. The kind of person to save beetle. Suddenly, I realise I've hit on the right answer. He's making us look equal in front of the crowds.

A quarter hour passes before we stop, drenched in sweat, my hair falling in my face. I turn around. Practically the entire camp is there, she's right at the front. Leaving, I sketch her a mock bow and prepare to leave. The she shocks me. She sketches a mock curtsey right back.

I stare. The crowd stares. The silence is uncomfortable, but all Nasuada does is smile.

"Bravo. That was an excellent display of fighting." She says calmly.

I don't know what to say. So I leave. I sprint through the camp until I find the right tent, not before knocking a small pole to the ground.

The two elves glare at me, but allow me to enter after I tell them I mean her no harm in their language. That's one oath I'm prepared to swear.

Arya sits in a chair by a small fire, drenched in furs and satin cloth. She doesn't look up. I take no notice and sit opposite her, enjoying the quiet. Strangely, her silent, serene figure is calming me, and I find my anger ebbing away.

**...chapter eighteen finished. YAY!**

**So...there's a review button here...**


	19. Shattering the Edges

**I should be doing my French Homework...**

**The ending of Bleach SUCKED.**

**To the wonderful, lovely reviewers, THANK YOU!**

Arya POV

I feel the air around me drawing closer and closer. I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. All the while he laughs at me, exposing his filed, pointed teeth. The teeth of a Shade. I struggle and struggle but still l can do nothing. Yet I cannot die. I'm trapped like this, unable to breathe, cry for help. I wish I was dead. I can hear someone speaking from far away. It sounds like my name. Arya. That was my name. Yes. I'm sure of that. I look around myself. The room is solid stone, no windows, bare. I'm bound with ropes. I can feel the roughness of it rubbing against my skin. I can feel the floor rubbing at the blisters upon my feet. I can smell decay, must, ruin. I'm cold. Yet something seems strange. The edges of the room are different, blurry almost. The rest seems too sharp, too clear for my tired eyes. It's not real. That thought sends me into a panic.

I can hear the speaking again. I wonder if it's the Shade. My entire body is shaking but I'm still immobilised by the ropes, I cannot escape whatever this is. Pain. I can feel pain now. The sting of the whip. The sound of irons branding my skin.

I look again at the blurred edges of my vision. It's not real. It's not real. The door is opening, and she walks through. Mother. I call out for her to help me in my mind, but instead she smiles and joins the Shade.

"This is your punishment. You were so unworthy. Unloved. A, disappointment," she says, smiling at me as she raises the whip with her own hand. Her words hurt more than the lash.

Now he's walking in.

"Why would you ever think you and I could truly be together? I left you for a reason after all. You just weren't...important enough for me to stay,"

Eragon takes the whip from my mother and uses it.

It's not real. I can feel the blood rising in my mouth but it's not real. It can't be. I remember Murtagh holding me when Eragon came. Flying through the air. That was real. Doubt flickers in my mind. That could have been the dream. Yet there were no blurred edges. I scream. Not with my mouth, but with my mind. Over and over. I shut my eyes to the sight in front of me. I carry on screaming until I barely notice I am. Then something happens.

The vision begins to crack, little pieces falling away. The sound in the distance becomes clearer.

_Arya? We're safe now. Arya please speak to me. Arya!_

I know that voice. Whose is it? Fir. That sounds familiar. The image is breaking even further, right down the middle. The pain gets worse, almost as if the shards are cutting me. No. No. No. No. I don't want the pain anymore. That was the name. Firnen. It's getting clearer. Firnen was...he was. A dragon. MY dragon. Doubt runs into that as well. I'm unworthy aren't I? Why would I have a dragon?

_It's true! I hatched for you. On the way to Ellesmera._

Cautiously, I reply.

_**I don't remember very much of that.**_

_Then I will show you._

Before I can protest, images are coming into my mind. I forget my panic and try to puzzle them out. I'm in them. All of them. Eragon and I by a river. Travelling with Murtagh. A little green stone, an egg, hatching. Firnen.

I open my eyes.

Two men stand over me, looking worried. I know them. Eragon and Murtagh. I find myself staring at Eragon.

"There was a little room," is all I say, at once annoyed at myself for saying it. Stupid. Yet he nods.

"Was it real?" I ask him

"Before, yes. But you left it a week ago, remember? I rescued you," he answers. Murtagh is scowling. So am I.

"I didn't mean that. At this moment. Before I saw the both of you."

Eragon looks more worried. "No, Arya. That wasn't real, I promise you,"

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" I find myself annoyed. I sit upright. Then I get to my feet. Why do they look so concerned? They have no need. I'm Arya. I'm Queen. I'm strong. I'm worthy.

I hit my foot on the table. Pain. I remember pain. I look back at them.

"I don't know how I could have forgotten that. Idiocy." I say almost manically. I know pain. I hit my foot again. More pain. So I do it again. It becomes predictable. Safe. Then I find myself being picked up, by Eragon.

"Stop it, please. Please stop," he's whispering, and all of a sudden I'm crying. I don't even know why. I never cry. It's weak. I look at him. Brown eyes. He told me he loved me once. That memory isn't blurred.

"Do you love me?" I whisper back. He looks at Murtagh briefly, before laying me onto the small cot and saying something into my ear, so softly I have to strain to hear it. Two phrases. Somehow, I realise one is mine. Inexplicably mine. I look at him. The other phrase had me in too. He smiles.

"Always," he says.

I feel cold again. Almost instinctively, he wraps his arms around me, holding me to his warm chest. Murtagh is scowling again, but as he leaves he sketches a quick, almost mournful bow.

Murtagh POV

Great. Now there won't be any more quiet sitting by the fire. He won't leave her not for anything now. I kick the floor at my selfishness. It's good she's not catatonic anymore. She recognised us. I'm pretty sure she could hear Firnen. This is good. Music is filtering through from the main tent. That's good. I could use a distraction.

The two guards actually nod at me as I pass, a gesture I return, and they open the tent flap for me. It reveals a long dance going on, my Queen in the centre. She's wearing red, her hair bound up tightly. Pearls glisten around her neck, surrounding a deep, scarlet ruby. She's beautiful, and so against my better judgement, I offer her my hand. She smiles.

**Dundundun. Okay, getting inside Arya's head. I know not everyone will like it, but please, no flames :D **


	20. A War Begins

**I know. It's been a long, long time. I've been dealing with, well, a lot. And all that has simply left me self destructing. And that is why this story has been so long delayed. I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it. To kumar, Your message about holding onto dreams was beautiful, thank you :D Also, just to clarify, Murtagh's feelings for Arya are purely that of an almost brother/sister relationship. He cares for her. He's not in love with her.**

Five days from last chapter- Murtagh POV

Sounds of metal clanging against metal fill the early morning air; I'm watching the soldiers train from the weaponry tent. Apparently I'm meant to be helping them, but after one of them touched his sword a little too fondly I decided to leave it to Eragon. They adore him after all. I find myself kicking the dust in frustration as yet another one of them tries a move that would get them killed. Eragon corrects him, only for the man beside him to do the same thing. It would almost be comical if the consequence for their ineptitude would be an Urgal axe in their heads.

_**Still not helping? **_Thorn's voice presses into my mind.

_Not unless they all decide not to kill me as soon as I try._

_**Eragon would not-**_

_I don't want to hear about Eragon._

_**He's your brother.**_

_I'm well aware. Are you with Saphira?_

_**Don't change the subject Murtagh-**_

_Are you or are you not?_

_**Yes. Now go and make friends with at least some of the men.**_

_Fine._

I cast my gaze around for my Queen and see her under the canopy tent with Orik, Jormunder, Orrin and Lord Dathedr, huddled around a great oaken table spread with numerous papers and scrolls. I smile as she quite clearly says something snapping to Orik. King Grudgeholder responds with his own remark. My Queen walks around the table, out of my view, hidden by the two sentries posted by the tent poles.

A cold hand touches my crossed elbow. At once, my hand goes to my sword, before I realise who it is.

"Arya," is all I say, giving the merest incline of my head. Her own head rises up a notch, just like she used to do. Proud. Then it goes down again. At least she's not screaming anymore. Or staring endlessly into fireplaces. Every now and again you can see the hint of who she used to be. She wears simple leather leggings that would be fit for a common ranger, but a beautiful tunic of ice blue silk hangs over them, embroidered in silver threads. Her raven hair hangs loose, standing out starkly against the material. Physically, you can't see her scars at all.

"I thought Nasuada wanted you to help," she says, fixing me with her clear gaze.

"I rather prefer not being skewered on a sword before the battles even begun," I answer, kicking up more dust.

Arya looks out over the training ground. "You have to see the good in them for them to trust you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I laugh, resting my hand on the pommel of my new sword. It's a hand and a half, like my first sword. Inferior to Zar'roc.

"You will understand eventually. You are already beginning to, though you don't see it." She says, fixing me once again with her clear gaze.

"Oh really? Care to explain? Or are you doing the whole elf riddle thing?" I raise my eyebrows, only half expecting a response.

"You won me over." She answer simply, "You want to be friends with Eragon again, however much he annoys you. And you love her."

"Won you over?" I press her.

"At first I thought you were a bitter, resentful, angry, regret filled man with nothing to do but serve the new regime. I thought you would remain tied to your past. I didn't think you would be the one protecting me in that cell."

I look away. "I did what I had to,"

"No, you did what you did because you care for me. Because even through everything that's happened these past few years, you still hold on to something."

My eyebrows go up further.

"You can hide behind cynicism and disbelief all you want, but I know that some part of you is listening." She says, giving me what might be considered a smile.

Eragon has finished sparring with his partner. Well, you could hardly consider it a fight, more of a one sided effort. He walks over to where Arya and I stand with his features arranged into an expression of almost pain.

"What's the matter little brother? Worried you might have scratched your tunic?" I smirk at him, my hand still on the pommel of my new sword. He stares back at me.

"No. I'm worried that the men are going to get killed in a day or two. Look at them Murtagh. They're afraid." He drives his sword into the ground.

I do look. I don't understand. Having him around should boost their spirits.

"Why-?" I begin before Arya cuts across me.

"It's because of what happened to me isn't it?" She says, staring at Eragon. A pause follows, before he looks up.

"They're scared. If the Elf Queen could get so," he pauses again, "Hurt, then they think they won't stand a chance."

Arya nods. "Then we will show them I am not so hurt as I was. Eragon?"

He stares at her. "Will you be al-?"

"I'm not one of your-"

"Weak females. I know." Eragon smiles.

She picks up a sword that rests by a tent pole, stopping for a moment before she guards the edges. Eragon does the same, and they walk out together to the training ground, right in the centre. Almost immediately, every soldier stops sparring to watch them. They circle each other, never breaking eye contact. Arya strikes first, twisting her sword at the last minute to try to attack Eragon's left side, but he blocks her and so they begin again. Parry, thrust, over again. Twist to the side. Switch hands. They try everything and anything. I begin to pick up their game when I see a few soldiers begin to spar again, this time trying to emulate them.

"Clever," a voice comes from behind me. I turn to meet the face of my Queen.

"My lady," I bow slightly, as she steps next to me, looking radiant even in armour.

"I can't tell you how happy I am you're well," She says, watching the battle go on.

"We've been through this, it's over. I'm back now." I answer, smiling at her.

"I know." Comes her reply after a pause. She nods. "I have much to do,"

A silence falls.

"Nasuada-"

"No Murtagh," she says softly, "You're right, after all. I am Queen and as yet I have no successor save Orrin, who will never reach the throne while I still have breath left in my body. These past few days have been foolish. You were right all along. We were wrong to seek what must never be."

It takes a moment. Then I register. "What?" I can barely form the words.

"Murtagh-"

"NO!" I shout suddenly. "NO! After all this time spent telling me you would give this up, that you love me, you tell me we were wrong? You tell me I was right even though I knew myself it was wrong?"

"Murtagh, please understand,"

"No Nasuada, you understand. I protected you, healed you, watched you climb up the steps of the throne, got tortured for days while I still refused to tell them anything about you, and you shrug me off? Tell me to move on? I, I-"

People are staring. I take a deep breath and bow.

"My lady," I spit out, turning my back on the training ground, ignoring her pleas to stay. I can feel the anger rising up inside me, boiling me up, making me shake.

"You've got me." She whispers, kneeling in front of me and looking into my eyes as if she can read my very soul. "I swear to you, no matter where you go, no matter what duties I shall have, you have me. I love you. For better or worse, I am yours."

I kick over a pot on an old fire in frustration, memories teeming through my head.

"Murtagh?" says a voice. I focus and see the young woman that is my cousin's wife. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Katrina," I say, preparing to move past her.

"It's her isn't it?"

I turn back around. "What?"

"She came to talk to me last night, asking about you."

"What did she say?"

"If there was any other way." She says, looking at me almost pityingly. I hate pity.

"Any other way?"

"She doesn't mean she doesn't love you anymore. Only that duty compromises a lot of things. And her first duty as Queen must be to her kingdom."

Arya's words swim into my head.

"No, you did what you did because you care for me. Because even through everything that's happened these past few years, you still hold on to something."

Just then, a horn sounds, accompanied by the distinct cries of an oncoming war. I look back towards the camp, where it has begun.

**...Yep, so next chapter will be, dundundun, the battle :D Long time coming... Thank you for reading- please review!**


	21. Three Endings

**Well, this week I'm doing much better on my time schedule :D Crazily, I only have one day at school this week, cause today was a Bank Holiday and the last three days of the week I'm on this archaeological course thingy the History department's running :D And I love History so I just had to go on it :D (nothing to do with missing Maths ALL WEEK XD) **

**As always, thank you to ever single reviewer/reader there is, you mean the world to me :D**

***evil laughter...let it begin...**

Murtagh POV

An arrow shoots past me, missing my head by about three inches as I see the entire camp is now under a full attack from all sides. Hundreds, even thousands of Urgals uttering war cries everywhere, the Urgals on our side being forced to fight their own kind. I see men being cut down from behind, somewhere, people are screaming. All I can think of is that this was meant to be over. There wasn't meant to be anymore war. Another arrow comes close and I banish all those thoughts form my mind. The only thing driving me now is the fight, and I cannot lose.

_THORN!_

A huge roar comes from above, and Thorn comes into view, bellowing fire and smoke as he joins the fray, killing three Urgals straight off with a snap of his mighty jaws. Saphira joins him, Eragon on her back, wielding Brisingr, which is alight with blue flames. They are terrifying, emanating power. A smile curls my lips and I enter the thick of it with a cry, stabbing the nearest Urgal straight through the heart. I can't believe how many there are. As one falls it is replaced immediately by another. Soon I am coated with blood and the dust of battle. I see an axe coming towards my head, it takes only a moment to disable its owner, the head dropping into the dirt like a stone. WHACK!

_**MURTAGH!-**_

The ground blurs. My body seems light, almost distant from me, like I'm not quite in control of it. I fall to my knees in a daze, my eyes unfocused, unable to comprehend what has happened. How the hell I didn't get out of the way.

_What?-_

_**Murtagh, get up, NOW!**_

I try to obey, but my legs seem paralysed, my mind foggy. The voice inside my brain gets more panicked, as if it's sensing the danger.

A cool hand tilts my chin. Scarlet eyes gaze into my own, the Shade's smile revealing his filed, pointed teeth. Only half heartedly do I try to stab him with my mediocre sword. He bats it away as if it were a fly, his smile growing wider.

"Much as I enjoy watching your helplessness, my orders must be fulfilled. It's a shame my masters aren't here to see you fall. I suppose they'll have to take your brother instead," the Shade brings his own sword to my eye level, so I can see faint markings etched into the blade. I hear a woman screaming. Roars fill my numb brain as the sword rises, against the sun. Then something strange happens. The Shade's face grows pale, almost grey as the skin seems to crack. I stare at his chest, at the point of a sword showing through his breastplate. The Shade drops to his knees, his skin now transparent, wreathes of swirling darkness beneath. Behind him, her sword now free of its victim, stands my Queen. With a cry, the darkness inside the Shade is released, drifting away in great clouds, and he is no more. I stare at Nasuada, my mind slowly regaining its clarity.

"Now we're even," she says, turning to stab another Urgal, the soldiers renewing their morale, digging into reserves of adrenaline fuelled energy.

I look at my Queen and smile, getting to my feet just a second after another Urgal takes a swing at my head. My sword stabs into his chest for only a moment before it finds another life to end. It flashes in wisps of silver, red, streaking different ways as it parries, thrusts, stabs.

I find myself making my way towards where Eragon and Saphira are, now fighting separately. In a blast of pure white light, five Urgals around Eragon simply drop down, their hearts never to beat again. The soldiers around Eragon cheer on their powerful leader. I smile to myself. Two can play at that game. Two words from my mouth and seven Urgals drop to the ground. The cheers grow louder. I back my way to Eragon.

"Having fun little brother?" I say, my mouth still curled in a smile.

"You didn't look so happy when the Shade was holding a sword to your neck," he retorts.

I leave it, then my mouth hangs open.

"She's fighting?" I gasp, staring at Eragon for the briefest moment.

He looks back, his face creased. "Couldn't talk her out of it. And the elves are back to calling her Drottning so no help there."

"Brilliant." I mutter, before sprinting in her direction.

"What are you doing?" Eragon yells after me, engaged with a Kull.

"Someone needs to keep a closer eye on her," I yell back as I reach Arya. She raises her eyebrows at me. "Oh really? Says the person who had to be saved not five minutes ago" she says coolly.

I shake my head. "That wasn't saved, that was helped. And someone does need to keep an eye on you. Somewhere in that superior head of yours, you know it's true," I retort, stabbing an Urgal behind her to prove my point. In a truly unlike-Arya gesture, she rolls her eyes and mutters something I don't quite catch but sounds a lot like 'show off'.

An ear splitting screech fills the air, drawing everyone's eyes upwards to where it jumps from its strange mount, a mount more air than substance, and lands on the ground with a hiss. The battle seems momentarily stunned into truce, then with a volley of war cries the Urgals resume their onslaught, now joined by what I had prayed I would never see again. The last Ra'zac.

If he's shocked, Eragon does a good job of hiding it, but he must know what they expect him to do. What he must do. Head Rider after all. Pulling Brisingr into a war salute that goes down the centre of his brow, he walks steadily towards his new foe. Another cry enters the slightly fetid air, and I find myself with my arms locked around Arya, stopping her from collapsing into insanity again. Her entire body shivers against me, but I cannot let her go. Not like this, He'd get himself killed trying to protect her. The battle is continuing half heartedly, but most have turned to see the second main event. My Queen is one who carries on fighting, letting fate do what it must. Four elves protect Arya and I from being attacked while we watch. Then, in a look that chills me right down to my bone, the Ra'zac looks directly at us, at me, then Arya, before back to Eragon, who has followed his foe's gaze and is now wearing a hard expression. Then it begins.

Everything happens as if in double time, the Ra'zac just as fast as Eragon, almost as lethal. The two of them engage in a dance that will end in one of their deaths, sound broken by hisses and the air being cleaved by metal. On and on it goes, and then I notice it. A slight twitch in Eragon's hand. Mentally, I go back through the time. He has to be exhausted. And the Ra'zac, a spectator until now, is clearly not. I wonder why Saphira hasn't entered into battle with them.

_He doesn't want her to_

_**Thorn? How d'you know that?**_

_I asked her the exact same thing you wondered- apparently Eragon wants it to be a fair fight or something like that._

I snort with laughter. How like my little brother. Good to his core, even if it means his death.

_I suppose he doesn't see how vital he is to everyone?_

_**He is still stubborn. Like you.**_

_It'll get him killed._

I turn back to the fight. Little things are now creeping up in Eragon's play, things the soldiers wouldn't see but I would. Things the elves would. Things the Ra'zac would. I see it coming before he does. I release Arya. I do what my heart screams to me, and ignore my head.

I get there just in time for the sword to impact me and not my brother. For the second time, I fall to the floor, my gaze dimming. In what seems like fog, I see Eragon using Brisingr, alight with flames again, to stab the Ra'zac through it's heart. I hear something in my head. A woman singing.

_At night, he comes to me in a dream,_

_Takes my hand and smiles sweetly at me,_

_Tells me he knows it's not a story,_

_And that he swears he believes,_

_How love will conquer everything_

_How it lasts, all through the ages_

_How he and I'll have a future,_

_Somewhere, somehow together,_

_He says he's loved me forever,_

My mother's voice echoes in my head as my body loses its warmth, the blood seeping out.

_I'm lying on my bed after a particularly vicious beating from Morzan. I think of the servants who simply stood there. My nurse is stroking my hair as she applies the salve to my ruined back, trying not to let it sting. My eyes wander as I think of the last person who did this. When I was three. The gardener my mother was always with. He returned just after she had died. I think of when she died. Of when she sang to me and held me weakly before Morzan ordered me away. I think of her lying in state, her auburn hair brushed out over her shoulders. Her mouth that would never smile at me again. Her grey eyes, proof that I belong to her as well, will never look at me again._

Eragon kneels beside me, muttering frantically as he starts to repair the damage.

"Guess you need saving too sometimes huh little brother?" I manage to whisper, my vision returning as his magic takes effect.

"You didn't have to, I saw it just as you did," he answers, as he mutters more incantations.

I manage to laugh, pain shooting through my ribcage. "Worried about me little brother?"

"Stay still."

"They'd better be grateful for me saving such a stubborn fool,"

"Not as grateful as me,"

"Thought you saw it coming?"

He looks at me. "What do you want me to say, Murtagh?"

"That just for once, I got to save you."

Another look. "Fine. You saved me."

A pause.

"And I'm glad you did."

The incantation finishes. As if by flicking a switch, the battle is resuming. This time, I know we're winning. The Urgals time is numbered. My sword is back in my hand, ready to be used again. Then my world spins.

The red point of the sword is showing from her stomach. Zar'roc. I look to the person who had taken it.

Kendar smiles as he pulls the sword out of her. Out of my Queen. Her eyes meet mine for only a second before she falls to the ground.

**Whew. My hands hurt from typing... I promise it won't be long until an update, seeing as I'm being evil to you at this ending...**


	22. She Wouldn't Want Me To

**3 Trading Yesterday so much 3**

**Oh, in answer to a review, yes that song in the last chapter was mine, I wrote it ages ago and thought it fit... I also just really like connecting Murtagh, Selena and Nasuada...**

**Also...dundundun...**

**150 REVIEW BENCHMARK! WOOOOOOO!**

**Massive thanks to the amazing, wonderful reviewers who make my day :D**

**This chappie may have some shockers...**

Murtagh POV

Two elves subdue Kendar in less than a second, but they are too late. The damage is done. Arya runs those few paces, but she doesn't stop at Nasuada. She reaches Kendar and is about to drive her sword through his neck before Eragon stops her, turning her stricken face around and saying something over and over to her. I don't focus on them.

I try to ignore what my eyes tell me. My Queen isn't on that ground. It's not blood. She's going to get up any minute.

She doesn't have a minute.

My vision starts to blur, a ringing begins in my ears. Everything around me is spinning, round and round. My feet carry me forwards in a blur, forward those few metres in the space between us until I reach her. Everything else melts away as I kneel beside her. Shaking, I turn her over gently, waiting to see her beautiful chestnut eyes. I don't. Her eyes are shut. Her face is pale. How long has it been? A minute? Two? Too long. I stare at my hands, now covered in her blood.

I don't even breathe as I feel the side of her neck, waiting for the little pulse that shows she hasn't left me, that she's still there.

Nothing.

I move my hand to her chest, right over her heart.

Nothing.

She's left me. She's gone. I'm alone. I feel the fury rising inside me. The familiar anger. The hatred. I draw my dagger from my side. I feel my very being shattering. I prepare for the small gesture that will send my weapon straight into his own stomach. So he won't die quickly, like her. He'll die in agony. I flick the dagger around slightly.

'You've got me'

I stare back down at my Queen. She looks so calm. I know what she would say to me. I drop my dagger. I'm still Murtagh. Behind me, I hear a laugh. His laugh. A harsh laugh. Cold. Not like hers. Hers was like the sunlight. I remember another smile.

_Eragon's smile as Thorn and I fly away from him all those years ago, his smile filled with hope. Identical to our mother's. I feel the twinge of jealousy at another thing he inherited and I didn't. Her looks, her nature, everything. But he doesn't have her eyes._

I feel myself shattering again. I fight to hold on.

I think of her smiling at me when she first met me. Her in the Hall of the Soothsayer. Sitting next to me. Understanding me. Healing me. Healing.

I look back at her.

**Don't even think about it Murtagh-**

I block of our connection. All I know is that I cannot live without her. I say the words.

'Waise heill'

The magic takes away my strength almost immediately. I'm almost lying on the floor as I feel myself gasping for air. I cannot breathe. I feel people trying to give me strength. It's hopeless. I know it is. I start to shake involuntarily, and all I can think of is I don't want to die alone. Numbly, I reach out and take her still warm hand. She fills my mind, becomes my entire being. My need for her. How much I love her. How much I've always loved her. The craziest of all ideas comes into my head as my eyes close.

I feel my breathing become shallower.

_I'm sorry Thorn_

My eyelids feel heavy, like I haven't slept in days.

**MURTAGH! Stay awake! MURTAGH!**

I look at my Queen. And I decide.

The one burning desire for her to live, for her to forgive me, to know I always loved her fills my mind as I say the Name.

A second. Two. Voices fill my head as my eyelids close.

Her own open. The last thing I see are her beautiful chestnut eyes. I smile. My grey eyes slide shut.

I'm at peace.

**Okay...So that's sort of another cliffie...Sorry I just can't help myself... Anyway, I really hope you liked it, I spent ages thinking for what Murtagh could possibly do to save her and when the Name popped into my head I just sorta knew it was going to be my solution- it's magic right, it has no limits? It can be formed by emotions, as proved by Eragon, so I figured it was perfect for Murtagh's last act... His last act...MWAHAHAHAHAHA!**


	23. Acceptance

**Okay, this is Sunday... I'm really sorry...**

**Oh, just a little note- DON'T GET THE FANFICTION APP FOR IPODS. IT DOESN'T WORK PROPERLY. IT ANNOYED ME.**

**:D Thank you to every wonderful, brilliant reviewer/reader out there :D**

**This is a bit short... I know... **

"_You are not one of us my son." The ghost woman tells me. She walks away, her auburn hair rippling in the wind._

"_NO!" I scream at the figure. "Come back!"_

_Just for a second, the figure turns so the grey eyes can meet, before she fades away._

My eyes open. I'm lying on a new cot, in a red and gold tent. My various wounds are gone, my joints feel energized, if a little stiff. I look around me. Eragon's eyes meet mine.

"Just say it, little brother." I get out weakly. He stands up.

"You stupid fool! You nearly killed yourself! Not to mention rewrite the laws of magic and nearly destroy the entire camp with your experiment!" He rants, throwing a cloth of the table for good measure. He bends over the oaken table, breathing heavily, before looking at me.

"You saved her life though." A small smile draws over his face. "And made her immortal while you did it." The smile disappears. "And nearly revealed the Name to everyone standing around if I hadn't made everyone deaf for a few seconds."

I stare at him. "I made her, immortal?"

Eragon nods.

I stare at the ceiling of the tent and curse.

"Aren't you happy?"

"I'd be happier if I hadn't wrecked her life." I answer bitterly.

The cloth flies into my face and a very red Eragon is beginning to say something when the tent flap opens.

"Wrecked her life? On the contrary, you made a very difficult decision easy. Now she won't have to decide between you and the Crown." says a voice. Arya. Her green eyes find mine.

"How are you feeling?" her musical voice asks me.

"Fine. If we focus on the matter at hand. Who is going to get the throne? Orrin? That idiot couldn't run a stable." I retort angrily.

"Jormunder is regent until they convene a council. Then the people will elect a ruler." Arya says smoothly. "And all of you will be coming to Ellesmera with me."

I stare. "What? Why?"

"A special occasion is going to occur." Arya answers.

"What occasion?" I ask.

She smiles. "You will find out in due course."

The tent flap opens again, and Orrin and Kind Grudgeholder walk in.

"They told us he was awake," Orrin says, not looking at me.

Eragon begins to answer-

"Yes." I cut in, glaring at him. King Grudgeholder laughs. My gaze switches to him.

"Thought you wanted to bury an axe in my skull?"

"I thought you were a worthless pile of traitor rubbish. I was wrong." Returns Kind Grudgeholder.

"Sorry, what?" I pretend not to have heard.

"You heard."

A smile comes over my own face. "And what brought about this change of heart?"

"A rather angry Queen."

My smile grows wider and I step out of my cot gingerly, testing my weight on my foot.

"And where would I find this angry Queen?"

"Wait just a minute, we need to speak about future arrangements-" Orrin begins. I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"Of course your Highness. Don't draw attention to myself any more than I already do and don't flirt with the Queen in public. I will make sure to obey none of those demands." I exit the tent.

Nearly every soldier in the camp in the camp stands before me, swords drawn. I stop in my tracks, expecting the blow to come at any second. It doesn't.

My Queen, ex-Queen, steps out of the middle of them all, her own sword drawn. Her hair hangs down her back in lightly waving strands, drifting slightly in the wind. She reaches the front of the company, and raises her sword at a slight angle just over her head, pointing it forwards.

One by one, their swords rise into the air in perfect symmetry, making up a salute.

I've been accepted.

I return her smile.

**No cliffie on this chapter. How nice I am :D So, Murtagh's alive, Nasuada's alive, and both of them have nothing but each other, how wonderful... Wait, what did happen to Angela's prophecy? HAHAHAHAHA.**


	24. How to Heal a Heart

**HIYA EVERYBODY!**

**Well, I've been very nice to you in the last chapter haven't I? Very nice indeed. MWAHAHAHAHAHA. Yes. I simply have the wonderful feeling of a secret no one else will know about. Until the end of this chapter. MWAHAHAHAHAHA. All will be revealed, so read on... **

**Shocker: Just realised that there's only one more chappie after this and then the Epilogue. What am I going to do and plan in my free time now...?**

Murtagh POV

I stare around myself in pure amazement. I've never seen a place more beautiful than Ellesmera. A place more calming. Everything is ethereal, magical, pure almost. Whites shine everywhere, all more prominent in the starlight, the trees almost seem to be shining, sparkling as if they were diamonds. All around me, elves walk as if on air, bowing in Arya's path, their fair hair streaming down their backs, all of them clad in pale silks that make them seem to glow, as if some light is shining from inside them. I've never seen anything more beautiful.

Arya herself is aglow, set apart by her raven hair, above them, the most magical of them all. My brother stands just behind her, as Head of the Dragon Riders, Saphira and Firnen by their side. Thorn walks with me, and I stand next to my Queen. Behind us are Roran and Katrina with their daughter, who I've surprised myself in getting to know, even though I've always sworn never to have children. I suppose my Queen isn't really Queen anymore, but in my head, she always will be. She's certainly the new top advisor though, relied upon as Queen in everything but name. People still call her name in the cities, children still through flowers before her horse. She is the People's Queen as well as mine, a ballad, a tale to be told in the taverns across the land. The tale of their Queen who fell in love with a traitor. How the traitor saved the Queen. How he was redeemed through her. Apparently it's as popular as the Dragon Rider and the Elf, which everyone somehow knows about. I'd put my money on Orrin. He needs something to keep his profile high.

We walk through the twilight towards the assembly, the wooden dais that's almost part of the forest at the head of the congregation. Lord Dathedr greets Arya, muttering something to her and Eragon that I can't quite catch, despite my sharp ears. The elves all make their customary obeisance as Arya walks by, the silver crown around her dark tresses proclaiming her royalty. Little Ismira, in elven dress for the occasion, is practically fawned over by the elf nobles. Looking around, I see only three elf children present, two are in their early teens, and the last is only a toddler.

Finally our company reach the dais, where Arya ascends to her knotted throne, yet she doesn't sit. I raise my eyebrows and catch her eye. Looking back, she gives me a small smile. I remember her announcement of a special occasion. I feel my heart begin to realise what it is when I look at Eragon, and I feel it making its own decision.

"Friends, Family, My people. All of you will have wondered why I have called this assembly. It is with a sadness in my heart I must answer, although I know in one hundred years time I will know it was the right course of action. First, I must say that I am quite healed, as you can see, but in my heart, in my soul, I fear cracks still remain."

Arya surveys her audience with her brilliant emerald eyes.

"I fear this will never change. The War took many things from me. My mother, Queen Izlanzadi, was one of them. The Rider Eragon sailed across the seas, to what we thought would be a permanent journey to a new haven. In these recent months, I have come to realise why he did so. Corruption, deceit, betrayal, loss. All of these have touched us and more. Those who went to the War did not come out unscathed. More than anyone, the five of us standing here before you today know that most. But I will not go into that. Our tales will be sung for eons more, written into scrolls and passed along by word. Yet, not by us."

I was right.

"It was wrong of me to take the throne. I am a Rider. I cannot also be a Queen. This was something I overlooked in favour of my people and the challenges that faced us after the War, yet now, those challenges have all but passed. The Riders must still be trained. A prophecy must still be fulfilled. The Rider Eragon will once again return to the new haven he had found. This time he shall not go alone."

Arya smiles, a brilliant smile, and she beckons to someone.

Lord Dathedr steps forwards.

"With your permission, good comrades, the Queen and I propose I take up the throne amongst the elvenkind," he proclaims from the dais.

A small silence. Then, one by one, the elves in the crowd twist their hands into gestures of fealty, until every one of them stands with the elegant gesture. In answer to their gesture, Arya takes the circlet from her own brow and raises it above the now kneeling Dathedr. They begin to speak in quick, fast Elvish, Arya asking, Dathedr answering. Finally, she places the circlet upon his own head. He turns and sits upon the throne.

"All hail Dathedr, King of the Elves!" Arya cries, making her obeisance towards him.

The cheers ring across the city, rippling through the trees with their happiness.

It seems everything is a party to the elves, but then I suppose they have reason. The five of our own party sit on an ante table to the new King's, watching the dancing. Music rings out everywhere, mainly flutes sung from the trees, a magical sound filling our beings. It rings among the trees, among the ground, striking up a mood, a feeling of that everything is as it should be.

I have never felt so happy and yet so sad. I know now, my fate. What I must do. What I have to do.

Arya beckons towards me. I follow her out towards where the dance is taking place, the flutes ringing out in a half paced rhythym, a small choir singing an Elvish tale.

Gently, I take her hand and we begin to twirl about her home.

"I missed having just you and I,"Arya whispers as we dance.

I smile. "Me too. You're pretty interesting,"

Arya laughs, I don't think I've ever heard her laugh like that before. She sounds free. What I want to be. What I will be.

Then serious.

"When will you tell her?" she asks me, a question I don't want to answer

"Tell her? Do I have to?"

"You know the answer to that. Only you will know if this is right."

"It is."

"Then tell her."

We dance some more before we change partners. I get my Queen.

I put it off. I want this moment to last, for me to be holding her forever. But the shores are calling. So I lead her towards the little clearing, bathed in the starlight, where the magic almost hangs in the air. The choir carries on.

"What is it Murtagh?" my Queen asks me, her smile upon her face.

I can't do this.

"Arya and Eragon are leaving for a new beginning, a new purpose."

Her face falls. She knows.

"And I'm going with them."

**Wow. I'm really mean aren't I? But prophecies must be fulfilled.**

**Clue for next chapter: Into the West.**

**MWAHAHAHAHA.**

**Off to eat biscuit cake.**


	25. Into The West

**Had to go to a trip meeting after school today. My friends and I hid from our French teacher. He inspires fear in us all.**

**On another note, MY EXAMS ARE FINALLY OVER :D YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY**

**So, now I no longer have to endlessly revise the Tsarist regime, WW2, and the abomination known as simultaneous equations, my time can once again be devoted to fanfiction :D **

**The Civil Wars are amazing. **

**To people who may have been confused about not being able to review the last chapter, I deleted the Update News which then messed up the chapter numbers, leading to the whole 'you've already reviewed this chapter' thing. I'm sorry.**

Murtagh POV (For the last time...sob)

Arya and I bow respectfully at her door.

"No." The elf says, wringing her hands into the air, "I shall not break my oath for the second time, and especially not for the son of Morzan, I'm sorry princess,"

I can feel my jaw clenching, as it does every time someone names my parentage, the familiar anger rising, but I control it, just.

"Rhunon-elda, you did the very same thing for Eragon, and Murtagh is changed. He is no longer merely the son of Morzan," Arya counters, and I can hear a vague hint of anger in her own voice, something the other elf must pick up on.

"No, he's a traitor and a murderer too." Rhunon retorts, pointing in my direction angrily.

"I only did what I had to," I say, a somewhat routine thing now.

Rhunon laughs, "Anything could be justified under that excuse,"

"Rhunon –elda," another voice enters the fray.

Oh wonderful. My little brother. Just when he couldn't be self sacrificing enough.

"Rhunon-elda, hear me out." Eragon tells the stubborn elf, stepping fully into the forge. He looks towards me. "Murtagh, take out Zar'roc."

I stare at him questioningly, but obey after a moment, feeling the sword fit familiarly into my hand. Then, after a moment, it feels strange. Not quite suited for my arm. This is a sword for killing. For pain. I don't want to inflict that anymore.

"See?" Eragon says, "That sword no longer belongs to Murtagh, as it didn't for me. Is that proof enough?"

Rhunon looks at me, fixing me with her gaze before taking in how I'm holding Zar'roc. She mutters something in Elvish and turns towards the fireplace, remaining silent. Then, quickly, she turns around.

"Fine. You will do the same as your brother."

...

I stare in wonder at the new weapon before me. It's a hand and a half, just like my first sword, but thinner, more elegant than Zar'roc. The colour is red, as before, but of a different kind. Rather than blood red, it forms into the colour you get at daybreak, at sunset, the kind that only appears for a moment and disappears just as quickly.

**What will you name it?**

_**No idea.**_

**You must have some idea**

_**Happiness? To counteract Misery?**_

**You want to name your sword Happiness? As what, a last laugh at whoever is cut down by it? To be cut down with happiness?**

_**Fine, I'll rethink**_

A moment passes as I try to remember every sort of adjective in the Ancient Language.

_**Brisingr? Just to annoy him?**_

**No. **Thorn answers without a hint of mirth.

_**Water?**_

**Earth?**

_**I see your point.**_

I think harder. Then, I become certain.

_**Aeidail**_

**Morning Star? Why?**

_**It feels right.**_

"Aeidail!" I cry aloud, and just for a moment, the sword in my hands seems alive, a current of fire running through it, the colours all more vibrant, more beautiful. A smile draws across my face, my brother isn't the only one who can discover true names.

**You'll need to stop competing with him you know. We'll be living with him soon.**

_**No we won't, we'll be living near him. He'll be with her.**_

**Arya.**

_**Yes, Arya.**_

"I'm sorry, Rhunon-elda, I know you didn't want to be disturbed," comes her voice.

I don't look at her and she doesn't look at me, just the way we want it to be. My jaw sets again as she and Rhunon exchange some words on some meeting or other, until the presence of her is too much and I leave the forge, nodding to Rhunon as I leave.

"Murtagh! Murtagh!" comes Katrina's voice. I slow down to let her fall into step with me.

"Why are you and Nasuada not speaking?" she asks me, straight to the point. One of the things I like about her.

"I'm leaving with Eragon and Arya." Is my answer, straight to the point in return. "And it's the right thing to do. We'll be leaving in two days time, to the place Arya's people came from all those years ago."

Katrina's mouth drops open slightly before she regains herself.

"Well then why on earth isn't Nasuada coming with you?" she says incredulously.

"Her place is here. She knows that. I know that. That's all there is to it." I say briskly, lengthening my stride again.

"What rubbish!" Katrina says suddenly, "If she was in love with you she'd jump to come with you. "

"Thanks Katrina."

"Murtagh, I didn't mean it like that-" Katrina's face falls.

"I know." I say shortly before ducking into another pathway, breathing heavily.

She does love me. Doesn't she? No, of course she does. I don't know.

So I do the thing I do know, and I run.

Nasuada POV (two days later)

Jormunder points out where we will rebuild the new cities on the map, but as much as I try not to be, I'm distracted. I find myself staring out towards the window, towards the harbour, where the party will go after Eragon has finished doing something in the Spine, what I have no idea, only that Arya, Firnen and Saphira are the only ones going with him. I don't think of him. At least I try not to. His face comes into my mind unbidden, unwanted.

"Nasuada?" Jormunder's voice breaks through my reverie.

He looks at me knowingly before sitting in the chair across from me.

"Nasuada, when you were born and brought to Farthen Dur your father looked after you. In the later years he trusted me with half of that duty, and I hope you have come to trust me as he did."

"I have, I-"

"Then go to the harbour." He says, smiling at me, then serious. "If you don't you will regret it forever. Run away, now."

"I have duties here, tasks, the cities must be rebuilt, the-" I try to protest, "He doesn't want me to come."

Jormunder stares at me. "Look into your heart and you will know if that is true."

I do. I know.

"Go, Nasuada. Go, quickly." The words enter my ears. Somewhere I hear them. Somewhere someone else said them long ago.

I do what he would do, and I begin to run.

Murtagh POV

I keep my mind firmly on knotting the mast's ropes. That's all I have to do.

Twist, turn, push over, pull through.

Twist, turn, pull over, push through. Methodical. Roran and his family stand at the pier, watching me prepare to leave. Eragon is speaking to him. They embrace. Then, Roran waves towards me.

It takes a moment, but I skip the deck and make it over to where they are. Roran looks me in the eye and offers his hand towards me, and I take it. Then I get pulled into an embrace just as strong as Eragon's.

"Make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid out there," Roran says, releasing me. "Cousin."

I nod. Then I hug Katrina, smile at little Ismira, who stares up at me with her wide eyes. Then it's time.

The three of us board the ship with our little company of elves who wish to make the voyage with us. Arya takes my hand as we stand at the prow, the ship slowly making its way from the harbour docks. I look back once, towards the bay, just once.

A shadow. A horse. Her. I race forwards, straight to the bow as she races down towards the pier, before she dismounts and without any further ado, simply jumps into the water and begins to swim, strong, supple strokes until she gets to the ship and is pulled aboard, wet and shivering.

"I couldn't leave you," She manages to say once I've stopped holding her.

"Are you annoyed?"

My mouth opens slightly. "Why would I be? I didn't think-"

"I'd leave for you? I didn't either, then I realised how much of a mistake I was making," she answers, smiling at me for the first time in days.

Our moment passes, and Eragon and Arya come toward us, beaming, though Eragon's smile is slightly strained. He's leaving his only cousin, as much of a brother as me, on the beach. But, as Roran said, not everyone is meant to live forever. Death shapes us. But not us anymore. We are free.

"Murtagh?" Nasuada asks me, "What was Eragon doing in the Spine?"

"He went back to where he found Saphira." I answer, before whispering the full truth in her ear. She laughs in delight, the most beautiful sight.

Together, the four of us stand at the ship's bow, watching Roran and his family fade from view, as we go into the west, the prophecy finally fulfilled.

...

**Okay. This feels weird. I've actually finished it. Well, apart from the epilogue. **

**HAPPY ENDINGS! And I said I wouldn't give you guys one when I first wrote this fic...I'm just too nice...**

**Of course, there were lots more moments I thought about putting in throughout the story, flashbacks, extras, but I'm happy with this...I may at some point upload these 'deleted scenes'...maybe...**

**Until then, stay tuned for the epilogue!**


	26. Epilogue & Farewell

**Okay, I'm still feeling kinda weird about finishing this, so I'm just going to jump straight in, play Trading Yesterday songs as I write and try not to sob... This will tie up the last loose end in the last chapter...**

Epilogue

I run through the forest, my ears still ringing from my grandmother's tale. The story of her father, his cousin, his cousin's brother. Tales of the second founding of the Dragon Riders, of the last battles, of the final parting over the seas. I'd been going up to that tiny hidden room for years. The tiny, dusty room filled with books from so many years ago, the beautiful illustrations of battles, of dragons, of elves and fire and soldiers. I found the room by accident, when my younger sister and I were playing in the castle, and on the highest level behind a heavy curtain lay the door, the key still in the lock, covered in a layer of dust. Three stone steps and you're in the room, the only room in the whole castle not to have opulent rugs or marble flooring, or a sense of being new. The first thing you see is an old desk, the gold leaf inlays breaking off from age, and on the top of it lay a leather saddle, so large it drooped slightly over the desk.

Now I'm running through the place he grew up, the place he hunted, the Great Rider. Even more, I'm actually related to him. My grandmother is his cousin's daughter, though now her beauty has faded and her once copper hair is grey, her porcelain skin marred by wrinkles.

My feet trip through the brambles of the forest, of the Spine, my head is still teeming of the things my grandmother was telling me. Of the elf Arya, the traitor Murtagh, the rebel's daughter who became the first High Queen, before they all went over the sea, never to return.

The riders go there for training, to the place no one knows exactly where but the riders themselves, a secret passed down among them. All my life I've been wanting to go there, to see the Great Rider, to be trained. To be a Rider as great as him. I'm the odd one out in our family though. I'm the only one of us not to have brown eyes. Instead, mine are a clear, silvery grey, like mirrors, my grandmother tells me. Like Murtagh.

He was always the most interesting to me. How he turned traitor but his love for the Queen made him return to us, helped us defeat the tyrant.

Only a small detail in my grandmother's tales stuck with me though. So here I am, running through the woods at twelve years old, trying to be the first one to actually find it, the one to work it out.

Suddenly, I find myself in a small clearing, almost completely hidden by overgrowth and boughs of trees hundreds of years older than my grandmother. My mouth falls open.

Right in the centre of the clearing, in a small, slightly burned area, lies a stone. It is a strange mix of blue and green, mottled iridescent colours running into each other seamlessly. My minds wonders at how the area could still be burned. Magic. Old magic.

Cautiously, I approach the stone, kneeling among the pinecones and moss, and gently place my hands on the smooth surface.

The stone gives a shudder, and then a deep crack appears down the middle.

...

**I'm finished.**

**I'm actually finished. Seven months of writing, of rewrites, of wonderful reviews from all you wonderful people out there and I've finally come to the end of this tale. Sure, I painfully rewrote three chapters and 'forgot' my French homework multiple times to get out the updates, but it was worth it.**

**The thing is, what made it so awesome was all of you.**

**I never dreamed I'd get over 170 reviews, not once in my life, and writing this has been amazing, to know that maybe I can dream of being a writer, that maybe it isn't quite as unattainable as I thought. To know that people are favouriting my stories, putting up with me constantly going on about how much I love Trading Yesterday (yep I found a way to fit them into this goodbye) and reviewing as dedicatedly as some of you have done is the most amazing feeling. **

**So, in closing, and before I start sobbing again, I just want to thank every person who has ever taken the time to read this from the bottom of my heart. I could go on about how much I'm going to miss this, but I have a feeling I won't stop. It's been awesome, and I'm really kinda melancholy about ending this, almost like I'm losing a friend, but all good things must end sooner or later right?**

**Once I have organised my 'deleted scenes' I will upload them just as soon as I can, promise.**

**THANK YOU! *huge hug to everyone**

***goes away to sob to Trading Yesterday**


	27. Deleted Scenes

**Well, here are the deleted scenes. Now, most of them, I really like, but just didn't fit into the story when I wrote them, they are all basically moments for another time, another tale. For example, halfway through writing The Promise when it was Arya and Murtagh travelling I had this horrible feeling I really wanted them to be together, so I wrote a whole encounter between the two of them before changing my mind. In Chapter 22 I was originally going to kill off Nasuada, that then changed to Nasuada living then, but not becoming immortal and Murtagh having to deal with her death before leaving over the seas, before the final version in the fic today...**

**I also wrote most of these with a particular song on repeat, which I've included if you can be bothered to listen to it while you read :D**

**Enjoy!**

Alternate ending for Chapter 12

Song: Falling by The Civil Wars

**Well, this was the period when I was really wondering whether or not to make this MurtaghxArya...I'm a huge shipper of them...**

My song ends and Arya looks at me, no longer crying but her cheeks still wet.

"You're a good singer Murtagh," she says, before getting up from our seat. Suddenly, she turns.

"Thank you," she whispers, so quiet the wind almost carries it away, but I nod in admission.

"Do you always feel like this?" she asks me in another barely there voice betraying how fragile she really is.

"Always," I tell her, and before I know it I've kissed her.

She stares at me for a moment, before we kiss again, but she breaks away suddenly, moving away from me.

"That was wrong," she whispers, rubbing her temple with her fingers harshly, a line in her forehead appearing. She looks up.

"We shouldn't have done that Murtagh,"

"Maybe we should. Thorn said maybe we weren't as different as we thought. My mother abandoned me, your mother abandoned you-"

"Your mother had to!" Arya cries, before checking herself to make sure she wasn't heard.

"There's no one around Arya." I look down. "Maybe she did have to, but it felt like that at the time,"

Arya nods.

"You know, I told your brother I couldn't be with him because of his age. You're just as young to me as he is." She says, a statement that's final to her, but not for me.

"So? Didn't stop you crying over him a minute ago." I retort, my earlier fragility shattered by the all too familiar anger.

"Don't talk about that!" Arya tells me suddenly, trying to keep her voice down again.

"Why not? Ashamed?"

"No!"

"Then what? Confused?"

Arya glares at me, and I notice just how fast she's breathing.

"Let's keep moving," she says, an excuse for her to move away.

Alternate Chapter 23

Song: Come Back To Me by Trading Yesterday 3

**So, when Murtagh 'dies', you got a tiny part where a 'ghost woman' leaves her son and walks away...Well, originally that was a lot longer, an entire conversation, cause I love Murtagh's relationship with his mother...But I cut it...**

_I feel strange, like a fog is weighing over me, keeping me here, paralysed. I can still open my eyes though, and when I do I don't stop looking. She stands in front of me, nearly perfect but for the strange way her skin is almost translucent, and when she moves it's almost as if she were gliding._

"_Am I dead?" I manage to ask her._

_She smiles, a beautiful smile, like a half forgotten memory._

"_No. You are just sleeping." She says, a musical voice, again, like something I remember hearing once, but something I can't quite place._

"_Who are you?" I say, but she does not answer me. Instead, she looks towards the floor, her face carved like a statue of sorrow, something else I remember._

"_And you'll be safe, with me" she sings softly, just one line, but I remember. I know her. Just as I realise she stands up._

"_It's time." _

"_You are not one of us my son." The ghost woman tells me. She walks away, her auburn hair rippling in the wind._

"_NO!" I scream at the figure. "Come back!"_

_Just for a second, the figure turns so the grey eyes can meet, before my mother fades away._

Kendar's Execution

Song: Shattered by Trading Yesterday(this song was played a LOT of times when I wrote this fic...I kinda made it into Arya's theme tune...Oh dear...)

**Why didn't I add this? Well, I thought at first it would be perfect for Arya to witness this, to have it as a chapter, but in the chapter where she nearly attacks him after Nasuada is stabbed, she is stopped by Eragon. I didn't want to go back on that when she kills him, so I cut this.**

It's a cold morning. Everything is still, silent, only a cool breeze permeating it. On the wooden scaffold he stands, not a hint of bravery on his face but a look of fear. I would feel sorry for him, if not for the memories of him torturing me. Laughing at it, delighting in it. Of him hurting Arya. Of all the unspeakable things he did. I find it poetic that she is to be the one to carry it out. Her revenge. But I worry. She's only been lucid for maybe a few hours at a time, she can't afford to break down now.

She's advancing on him though, drawing her sword slowly as she takes her position beside him. The crier reads out Kendar's charges as Nasuada watches from her throne, listening grimly with her jaw set. The elves are silent, as if stone, their hate emanating from them as his crimes are read.

Then it's time.

A moment. Another. Arya is staring at the sword, a strange look in her eyes.

She's going to lose it if she stays there any longer. So I reach the scaffold quickly, taking the sword from her loose grip, and Eragon gently draws her back at my glance, trying not to be alarmed at her now blank stare.

Now everyone is watching me. I know what to do though. I've done it before.

I bend over slightly to whisper in his ear.

"I hope whatever afterlife there is treats you for the evil you are," I say, the venom clear in my voice.

"Upset I hurt her?" He whispers back.

A second, and his head lies upon the straw, the eyes still open, but the light behind them is gone. The crowd cheers.

Alternate Ending- Dream Sequence

Song: Today Was A Fairytale by Taylor Swift (okay so it's a total romcom kind of song, but it just makes you feel happy :D)

**This was the ending I would have had if Nasuada had died...In the end though I just couldn't kill her off...And every time I read this I just didn't like it...**

My eyes open and I'm lying in a field, dotted all around with small daisies. I feel warm, bathed in the sunlight. A small pool lies in the middle of the field. Gracefully, slowly, I make my way towards it and gasp.

The lines from my face are gone, the wrinkles around my eyes are gone. The blood that had been on my armour is gone, indeed, so is my armour. Instead I stand in a simple set of trouser and a loose red shirt. The years are gone. I remember the last time I wore this. So many years ago. A lifetime ago.

Already knowing, I turn around to see her.

My Queen smiles the same smile she had sixty years ago, when we were both young and freedom was new in our hands. Before she was taken away from me.

"I knew you'd come here," she says, holding out her hand for me to take.

"How?" I say softly

"Because you promised me once," she answers.

I can feel the sunlight twinkling over us as we clasp hands, with nothing ahead of us but forever.

Murtagh's Childhood

Song: I've Got This Friend by the Civil Wars/I Won't Give up by Jason Mraz/ May I by Trading Yesterday 

**Actually, I really loved this scene, but when I was writing the fic I just couldn't fit it in anywhere, it would have meant re-doing the last three chapters cause I wrote this after Chap 24... It's actually based on a real place I went to as a kid with my brother and my dad...**

"Where are we going?" my Queen asks me as we fly through the air, trying to look towards my general direction seeing as I've blindfolded her.

"Surprise," I answer shortly, not wanting to give anything away. It feels strange to be back here, a place I thought I'd never see again, a place I'd confined to my memories.

"One clue?" Nasuada persists, her hands glued to Thorn's saddle as he makes a sharp swerve to avoid an updraft.

I laugh and shaky my head, before realising she won't see.

"Not even one," I confirm, "Besides, we're here now,"

Thorn folds his wings slightly and we drift towards the ground, landing smoothly and kneeling so we can dismount. I take my Queen's hand and help her off, before leading her to the specific point where she will be able to see everything, and take off her blindfold. She blinks for a few seconds to adjust to the light, and then gasps.

"Murtagh- this place is beautiful," she says, staring around herself.

I smile in answer, looking around for myself. Little has changed from the times I would come here as a boy. The forest is in spring now, bluebells everywhere, intermixing with snowdrops, clustered around the trees. The centre tree is just as I'd left it.

Nasuada looks at it curiously and points to the tree, where the trunk has been cut into and made into a seat, hidden by the walls of the tree, perfect for someone wanting not to be seen.

"You did this?" she queries, and I nod.

"When I was growing up I spent most of my time working out how to slip out of the castle to come here. I was eleven when I made that, spent a whole day carving the inside." I say, pointing to where I've made all the carvings, single words, poems, a tiny woodcut of the clearing.

"I can see why you liked it here." She says, sitting down by the tree, the seat inside now too small to fit into by either of us.

"Where did you go as a child?" I end up asking as I fall down next to her, absentmindedly picking grass, reminding me of how Arya always draws in the dust.

My Queen looks back, up towards the sky.

"I didn't really have a chance to go anywhere. I grew up in Farthen Dur, I can't remember a time when I didn't live there. Sometimes I'd go up to the higher levels, and go down the trough built for the dwarves, but Father found out and forbade me."

She smiles at me.

"I suppose I was what you might have called a little rebellious,"

I laugh at the thought, someone so committed to her duty being rebellious.

"Were you?"

I laugh again at the absurdity of her question.

"Not unless I wanted another scar on my back," I say in a joking way, even though I'm not.

"You should try it now," She tells me, still looking up at the sky.

"I don't think that would go down well, so soon after regaining my reputation,"

"Not you alone," she continues in a different tone. Is she actually being mischievous?

"Well, maybe that would be alright then," I respond, before getting to my feet suddenly.

"What?"

I drag her up in answer and pull her into a clumsy dance. Slowly, she relaxes.

"What are we going to do Murtagh?" she whispers

I think for a moment. "I don't know."

Another moment.

"But I'm not giving you up,"

She smiles.

...

**And that's all of them :D I hope you liked them, even if they weren't in the final edit :D**


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